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THE NAMELESS CITY 


a iRommang IRomance 


] STEPHEN GRAIL 



HAEPER li BEOTHERS PUBLISHERS 
1893 



Copyright, 1893, by Harper & Brothers. 


All rights reserved. 





s 




CONTENTS 


CHAP. page 

PROLOGUE 1 

1. THE JADE EYE 13 

II. THE WINDING ROAD 28 

III. THE SIBYL . , 39 

IV. THE CITY OF THE CHAI 51 

V. THE RED WITCH 64 

VI. THE PYRAMID 78 

VII. ISAIA ‘ 94 

VIII. THE LORD OF THE HORSESHOE 109 

IX. FASCINATION 125 

X. THE APPOINTED THREE 139 

XI. THE FESTIVAL 154 

XII. V^ VICTIS 172 

Xiri. THE CHASM 188 

XIV. A ROYAL SEPULCHRE 203 

XV. woman’s wit 219 

XVI. THE CORONATION 233 

EPILOGUE 248 


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. W 







THE NAMELESS CITY 


PROLOGUE 

It was during Church Parade on a hot June Sun- 
day that Lancelot Challice saw her again. Pleasant 
but unexpected sight. After parting with a woman 
at Damascus one does not anticipate finding her 
calmly surveying fashionable London from a Hyde 
Park chair. At first he could scarcely believe his 
eyes, but was ultimately forced to do so, as on a 
closer inspection it proved to be none other than 
Mrs. Ingraham. She looked bored, he thought, and 
gazed with an absent air at the highly civilized 
throng passing before her. Also, she drew figures 
in the dust at intervals with the tip of her sun- 
shade. Abstraction and figure - drawing denoted 
plainly that her thoughts were far away. 

In Damascus, perhaps,” muttered Challice, think- 
ing of what took place at their last meeting. “ Hm ! 
possibly I have the privilege of taking up her atten- 
tion. It may be that she is regretting the cruelty 

of her dismissal.” 

1 


2 


THE NAMELESS CITY 


He hoped that this might be so, but could not be 
certain. So far as facial expression was concerned 
she might have been the Sphinx, so inscrutable was 
her countenance. Hot an inept comparison by any 
means, for Sphinx she was to him, propounding by 
her every action the unguessable riddle of feminin- 
ity. From Adam downward no man has solved that 
riddle, and why should Challice hope to be the new 
(Edipus? 

They were islanded, as it were, by the surround- 
ing ocean of fashionable life — he this, she that side 
of the walk, and between, the river of humanity. 
Hot thus had been their last meeting. By closing 
his eyes Challice could recall, even to the smallest 
detail, the scene of six months ago. A house-top in 
old Damascus, at the sunset hour. Mrs. Ingraham 
swathed in Eastern silks, a modern Cleopatra in ap- 
pearance, leaning against the low parapet, he kneel- 
ing at her feet pleading for love. Then the sun 
sank down behind the hills, and the stars came out 
to find but one figure remaining on the house-top, 
the other, rejected and scorned, fiying from the city. 
In an infinitesimal moment of time the whole pict- 
ure flashed before his mind’s eye with photographic 
distinctness. 

Challice had a good memory, a vivid imagination, 
and these reproduced the scene so strongly that for 
the moment he felt again in all their intensity the 


PROLOGUE 


3 


pangs he had then undergone. A second after- 
wards he opened his eyes, and lo ! Damascus was 
not. He found himself in London, in Hyde Park, 
on Sunday, and Mrs. Ingraham, with nothing East- 
ern about her, save her oval face and olive skin, was 
staring at him across the tide of humanity flowing 
between their chairs. 

Perhaps it was a case of telepathy, and by thus 
calling up the past in his own mind he had in- 
formed her of the fact that he was present. He 
doubted that this could be so. Telepathy demands 
a certain amount of existent sympathy between the 
subjects, more especially when, as in this instance, 
it is practised unconsciously. On his part Challice 
felt that he had fulfllled this necessary condition ; 
but the fact that she, who was of no one mind with 
him, should respond immediately to such soul-talk, 
puzzled him not a little. To analyze this psycholo- 
gy he had no time, as having recognized his face 
she invited him to her side with that enigmatic 
smile the deception of which he knew so well. In- 
stinctively afraid, he hesitated about taking advan- 
tage of the concession, and so hesitating, was lost. 

‘‘ It is hardly wise to go,’’ murmured Challice, as 
he went; “still, I am now on my guard; that is a 
great gain. She shall not have the chance of tortur- 
ing me again. If I am as cold and self-controlled 
as she the duel will be fairer.” 


4 


THE NAMELESS CITY 


A foolish remark. No duel can be fair when the 
adversaries are man and woman. The odds are too 
much in favor of the latter. Challice, already un- 
consciously weakened by the sight of her face, for- 
got that inevitable inequality, and buckling on the 
armor of a careless demeanor, went forth to meet 
the fair Amazon. She had conquered him before, 
and in this case, as might have been expected, his- 
tory repeated itself. 

“Pekin, Tokio, ’Frisco, New York, Paris, Pome, 
a-nd now London. The seventh time of meeting. 
Who dare deny that there is luck in odd numbers. 
How do you do, Mrs. Ingraham 

He greeted her in this geographical fashion, with 
the object of showing by the steadiness of his voice, 
how little her presence moved him. She, too much 
a woman to be deceived by so shallow an artifice, 
stretched out her hand with a fleeting smile of 
scorn. 

“I am glad to see you again, Mr. Challice. Your 
salutation has at least the merit of originality.” 

“ Do you not think it a suitable mode of greeting 
for such hardened travellers as we ?” Then, without 
waiting for a reply, “ May I sit down ? — thank you ! 
And what do you think of Church Parade during 
The Season ?” 

Mrs. Ingraham emphasized her reply with a slight 
shrug. “I find it very dull.” 


PKOLOGUE 


5 


“ That is scarcely to be wondered at after yonr late 
experiencek It lacks the romance of the East.” 

“ The romance of Damascus.” 

The thrust went home, and Challice winced. She 
saw this and smiled. It was meet punishment for 
his pretended indifference. 

Yes !” he answered, bravely, mending his speech ; 
“it lacks the romance of Damascus. By -the -way, 
did you stay there long?” 

“ITot more than a week after your departure. 
It was tiresome without you.” 

“ Had I then the felicity of rendering it bearable 
to Mrs. Ingraham ?” This time the button was off 
Ids foil, and it was her turn to wince.^ She, angry at 
liis using her own weapons, did not parry the thrust 
with her accustomed skill. 

“ I never pay compliments, Mr. Challice. That is 
a man’s privilege.” 

“And one of which they take the fullest advan- 
tage. Shall I — ” 

“By no means,” interrupted Mrs. Ingraham, pleas- 
antly; “I think we know one another well enougli 
to dispense with compliments.” 

“ Certainly we did not make use of them at Da- 
mascus,” he said, bitterly; “it was all plain speaking 
there.” 

Mrs. Ingraham gave no sign of having heard this 
last remark, but arose from her chair with a conven- 


6 


THE NAMELESS CITY 


tional smile on her lips — a smile which meant noth- 
ing and enraged him greatly. He felt that she was 
playing with him. 

“ I am rather tired of the Park, Mr. Challice. May 
I ask you to escort me to Curzon Street?” 

He, inwardly fuming at her caprice, assented with 
a bow, and together they moved towards the Achilles 
Statue. Several people looked approvingly after 
the handsome couple as they departed. Recognition 
inspired thoughts which begot speech, and they were 
discussed before they were well out of hearing. 

“ It is a case there, I fancy,” said one man to 
another. 

“ How do you know that ?” questioned his com- 
panion. “You have never seen Challice dancing at- 
tendance on Mrs. Ingraham before.” 

“Ho! But I can tell their feelings by the ex- 
pression of their faces. He loves her, but — ” 

“ She does not love him. This is to be expected 
with such an icicle as Mrs. Ingraham. I never knew 
her to love any one, not even that old husband of 
hers, who was polite enough to die in the first year 
of the marriage and leave her all the money.” 

“ Hm ! May never does appreciate December. 
But in this case the disqualification of age is re- 
moved. Challice is handsome — so is she. He has 
money, she has more. They both love travelling, 
and neither of them is encumbered with relations. 


PROLOGUE 


1 


1 think myself it would be an ideal marriage — quite 
one of those superfine matches said to be made in 
heaven.” 

‘‘ It won’t be made anywhere,” retorted his friend, 
decisively. “ Mrs. Ingraham will marry no one save 
the Wandering Jew. She is too fond of travelling 
to tie herself down to a husband and a tea-urn.” 

By this time the two people whose characters 
were being so freely discussed' had left the gay 
crowd far behind, and were strolling leisurely tow- 
ards Curzon Street. Mrs. Ingraham had put up her 
sunshade, and the light striking through the red 
silk fiung a rose tint on her face. Th-us etheralized 
she looked more beautiful than ever, and perhaps 
guessed as much, for she secretly resented the per- 
sistency with which her companion kept his eyes 
away from so dangerous a neighborhood. In sulky 
silence he marched on, evidently determined to make 
her speak first. She did, and her remark was by no 
means amiable. 

“ You were certainly more agreeable at Damascus, 
Mr. Challice.” 

“ I had more reason to be so. Life in a fool’s par- 
adise is not without certain advantages.” 

“ Still thinking of that old folly ?” 

“ Can you wonder at it ?” said Challice, casting an 
angry look at her indifferent expression ; my bro- 
ken heart — ” 


8 


THE NAMELESS CITY 


Mrs. Ingraham interrupted this sentimental speech 
with a scornful little laugh. 

‘^Oh, dear me! Your broken heart! As if any 
man ever broke his heart over a passing fancy.” 

“ It was — it is, more than a passing fancy. Who 
knows that better than you do ? Have I not followed 
you like a dog all over the world? Pekin, Tokio — ” 

“I think you mentioned those places before,” she 
said, provokingly ; let ns admit that you did follow 
me all over the world. What then ?” 

“ I want you to be my wife.” 

“ You asked me that some time ago. At Damas- 
cus, wasn’t it?” 

‘‘ You know well enough. It was there you re- 
fused to marry me.” 

Is that a crime ?” 

don’t know,” he answered, petulantly, exasper- 
ated by her fencing ; “ I don’t care.” 

‘‘Don’t you? Then why did you speak to me to- 
day ?” 

“I know of no reason unless the sufficiently good 
one that I am a fool.” 

“No, my friend,” said Mrs. Ingraham, touching his 
arm lightly, “you are no fool. You only call yourself 
such an ugly name out of pique. You are wiser than 
you think in speaking to me to-day.” 

Challice stared at her in mute amazement, whereat 
she laughed at the perplexity of his expression. 


PROLOGUE 


9 


“ Don’t you believe me, Mr. Challice ?” 

“ I don’t know !” he murmured, distrustfully. “Af- 
ter what you said at Damascus — ” 

“No matter what I said at Damascus — the question 
is what I say in London.” 

“ That you love me and will be my wife ?” 

“ I don’t say that — yet.” 

“ Then you — ” 

“A penny, my beautiful angel, for a cup of 
coffee.” 

The interruption came from a sturdy beggar, who 
thrust a brown hand in front of Mrs. Ingraham. Glad 
to have some one on whom to vent his temper, Chal- 
lice turned angrily on the man. A gigantic mendi- 
cant he was, with wicked black eyes set in a brown 
face. His whole appearance was un-English and 
curious. 

“ Don’t trouble the lady, or — ” 

“ Wait a moment, Mr. Challice,” said Mrs. Ingra- 
ham, taking a shilling from her purse, “I want to 
give him this.” 

Looking steadily at the beggar she handed him 
the money. 

“ Ja pukenus drovan,” she said, in a low voice, 
glancing at Challice to mark the effect of her 
speech. 

The man gave a start, his eyes glittered, and took 
off his hat as he made reply : 


10 


THE NAMELESS CITY 


“Kiishto bak miri pen.’’ 

“What language is that?” asked Challice, when 
the man, still astonished, had taken his depart- 
ure. 

“ You don’t know?” she queried, in a disappointed 
tone. 

“ I ? No ! I never heard it before.” 

“Strange! strange!” she muttered, walking on 
quickly; “yet I fancied it might be so.” 

“ What might be so, Mrs. Ingraham ?” 

“Never mind,” she replied, recovering her com- 
posure. “What were you saying before we were 
interrupted ?” 

“ I was repeating the old story of Damascus.” 

“ So you were. Well, here we are at Curzon 
Street. I am sorry I cannot ask you to luncheon, 
but I am staying with some friends, and therefore 
cannot do so.” 

“But surely you are not going to leave me like 
this ! When am I to see you again ?” 

“ Let me see,” she said, reflectively ; “ this is the 
second Sunday in June, is it not?” 

“ I believe so, but I really do not — ” 

“ Then let us say this day next year at the Achilles 
Statue.” 

“ You are jesting,” he said, coldly. 

“ I was never more serious in my life. Foolish fel- 
low,” she added, in a caressing tone'; “do you think 


PROLOGUE 


11 


I would have teased you so much had I not intended 
to reward you later on ?” 

“ But next year !” he remonstrated, dolefully. 

“ Yes ! Next year,” repeated Mrs. Ingraham, de- 
cisively. “ I will give you an answer then — probably 
the answer will be different to that of Damascus. Of 
this, however, I am not sure.” 

“And therefore take a year to consider it?” 

“I have to consult others besides myself,” she 
said, gravely. “Mr. Challice, I cannot tell you my 
reasons for such a delay, but, believe me, it is im- 
perative. For my own part I am willing to be your 
wife, but, as I said before, there are others to be 
consulted.” 

“ You have no relations.” 

“How do you know that?” replied Mrs. Ingra- 
ham, with her enigmatic smile; “believe me, I shall 
explain all next year.” 

“ Then I won’t see you again ?” 

“ No ! I leave town to-morrow. You must not fol- 
low, nor seek to see me. On the second Sunday of 
this month next year I will meet you where I met 
you this morning. Till then, good-bye — Lancelot.” 

Before he could recover from his astonishment she 
touched his hand lightly, and flitted quickly down 
the street. When she disappeared into one of the 
houses, with a backward glance and a gay nod, he 
was still rooted to the spot in amazement. 


12 


THE NAMELESS CITY 


‘‘Next year,” he muttered, confusedly; “ she will 
answer me next year and explain — explain what?” 

No answer being forthcoming to this question, he 
took out his note-book and pencilled in the date of 
the meeting next year. As he went back to the Park, 
after making this memorandum, he met the mendi- 
cant with whom she had spoken. 

“ Here is a sovereign, my man,” he said, with 
affected lightness. “Tell me what was the tongue in 
which you conversed with that lady ?” 

The giant pocketed the coin, and looked know- 
ingly out of his wicked black eyes at his bene- 
factor. 

“ Kommany, sir.” 

“Kommany,” repeated Challice; “isn’t that 
gypsy?” 

With a wink the man turned on his heel without 
answering the question, and took a hasty departure. 
Challice, more amazed than ever, watched him walk- 
ing away, and wondered what connection Mrs. Ingra- 
ham had with this wild-looking gypsy. 

“She is the Sphinx,” he murmured, thoughtfully; 
“decidedly she is the Sphinx.” 

She might have been, but for all that he guessed 
her Kommany riddle before the year was out. 


CHAPTER I 


THE JADE EYE 

Close on nine months had elapsed since Mrs. 
Ingraham made that remarkable appointment with 
Challice. True to his promise, he neither sought her 
company, nor inquired her whereabouts. Such self- 
denial rendered him unhappy; so anxious to get 
through the year as comfortably as possible, he de- 
parted on his travels. In those nine months he ex- 
plored the Carpathians, skirted the Black Sea, and 
spent some weeks in the Caucasus. By such excite- 
ments he managed to subdue his impatience fairly 
well. Towards the end of March he returned to 
England, there intending to remain until the ap- 
pointed day. Before the meeting took place he 
found himself in Majorca. 

What brought him there was a jade eye. 

Jade is a hard green stone much prized by the 
Chinese, and this piece, sent to him through the post, 
was carved into the semblance of a human eye. 
What such an oddity had to do with Majorca he 
could not conceive, nor did the accompanying letter 
throw much light on the affair. 


14 


THE NAMELESS CITY 


To Lancelot Challice, — An important secret 
can be revealed by the sender of this jade eye. It 
concerns your past, present, and future — ignorance 
of it will render useless the meeting of June. There- 
fore be wise and brave. Come to Palma, in Majorca, 
and seek La Fonda del Pan Moreno. There you 
shall find a messenger who also carries a jade eye. 
Follow him and be happy.” 

There was no name appended to this strange docu- 
ment, and such an omission seemed to be intentional. 
An unsigned letter, a Chinese amulet — these things 
were redolent of mystery. Many men would have 
hesitated about accepting so doubtful an invitation. 
Challice felt no such qualms. He had met with 
many queer adventures during his travels, and this 
was apparently one of the same sort. Moreover, the 
secret, whatever it might be, concerned Mrs. Ingra- 
ham and the appointed meeting. This alone was 
suflScient to decide Challice, and a week after receiv- 
ing the letter he was seated in- the patio of La Fonda 
del Pan Moreno. 

It was a picturesque inn near the cathedral, much 
affected by sailors, smugglers, and mountain mule- 
teers. A band of these latter chattered in the quad- 
rangle, and Challice, perched up in the covered 
gallery running round it, was trying to discern the 
expected messenger amid the throng. 


THE JADE EYE 


15 


It will be noticed that no date was mentioned in 
the letter. The place, but not the time of meet- 
ing, was appointed. This omission did not trouble 
Challice in the least. Thus far had he carried out 
his instructions, and had no doubt but that in due 
time the necessary emissary would make his appear- 
ance. There was a fine fiavor of seventeenth century 
romance about this adventure which Challice found 
much to his liking. He had a drop of wild blood in 
his veins, and courted rather than avoided danger. 

Meanwhile he cleansed himself from the dust of 
travel, made an excellent meal, and afterwards passed 
his time in observing the motley crowd below. It 
was like a page out of Gil Bias. 

In this little known place life runs much on the 
same lines as in past ages. Majorca savors strongly 
of Orientalism, and its people are averse to change. 
As they are now, so were they when Ferdinand was 
driving the Moor from Granada. The Arabs are 
also gone from Majorca, but they have left their 
traces behind, not alone in architecture, but in the 
habits, customs, and dress of the Mallorcan peasantry. 
It is a morsel of the East set down in the West, 
unique and fascinating in its very incongruity. 

‘‘If this messenger does not appear to-day,” 
mused Challice, taking all this in by degrees, “ I 
shall not be sorry. There is plenty of amusement 
in Palma. This mixture of Arab and Goth has 


16 


THE NAMELESS CITY 


produced a curious result — neither of East nor 
West, but a commingling of both. Decidedly, I 
can pass a week very comfortably here.” 

He descended from the gallery and pushed his way 
through the crowd towards the archway of the patio. 
It opened on to a narrow street lined with gayly- 
caparisoned mules. These bore bales of merchan- 
dise and red jars of porous clay, which latter put 
him in mind of the “ Forty Thieves.” While their 
masters talked and drank within, the mules, im- 
patient to be gone, stamped their feet and jingled 
their bells. Pigeons whirled aloft in the sunny air, 
or sat in white rows on the parapets of the flat- 
roofed houses. Over the uneven pavements glided 
the pretty Mallorquinas, veiled in their mantillas. 
The closed windows and wire rejas of the houses 
gave them an Eastern air. Beyond arose the mighty 
fabric of the cathedral dominating the scene, and 
over all arched the dome of azure brilliant with sun- 
shine. 

“ Decidedly Eastern,” thought Challice, leaning 
against the archway ; “ not unlike Cairo — bright 
colors, veiled women, barred houses. It only wants 
camels to complete the picture. How strange that 
it never occurred to me to come here before. Now 
I am here, what is going to happen? Something 
romantic, I fancy. The air is fllled with advent- 
ures.” 


THE JADE EYE 


17 


The adventure began for him at once. A light 
touch on the arm, and he turned to find a woman 
looking at him with a smile. At a glance he guessed 
she was no Mallorquina. There was an Oriental 
look about her dark face which reminded him 
strongly of Mrs. Ingraham. Moreover, she was dif- 
ferently dressed to all the other women he had seen. 
All scarlet and black was her garb, with necklace, 
bracelets, and ear-rings of sequins. A red handker- 
chief was twisted round her black locks, and a red 
rose showed itself behind her ear. She was all 
movement and life, restless as a lizard, sparkling as 
a diamond. More devil than angel about her, for 
sure. 

‘^Carmen,’’ said Challice, aloud, involuntarily 
comparing her to Merimee’s heroine, “ Carmen, the 

gypsy-” 

“ My name is Fepa, Senor Inglis,” she said, smart- 
ly, in good Spanish. 

“How do you know I am English?” asked Chal- 
lice, in the same tongue. 

“ How do you know I am gypsy !” she retorted, 
smartly. “Ay dies mio ! — have I not been to Gib- 
rMtar? Do I not know the English lobsters with 
their red coats and stiff manners ? Aye, and their 
tongue also — in part.” ^ 

“ You are a gypsy, I see !” 

“You have sharp eyes, Englishman.” 

2 


18 


THE NAMELESS CITY 


Do you live in Palma ?” 

“Ask the wind where it lives,” said Pepa, dis- 
dainfully. “Am I not as free as the air? Where 
the wind goes I go. You see well, I am a Zincallo 
— that answers all. - Come, my delicate one, let me 
tel la lajo.” 

“La lajo?” 

“ The good-fortune, senor.” 

Challice shook his head with a laugh. It amused 
him to converse with this pretty savage, yet he was 
not inclined to encourage superstition. 

“For a kiss, perhaps, but not for palmistry. I 
know my fortune already.” 

“ Who knows that till death ?” retorted Pepa, seiz- 
ing his hand; “only the gypsy eye can see into the 
future. Be wise and hear what these lines say. It 
is good-will I bear you, else I would give no warn- 
ing. By my soul, no !” 

“ Warning !” 

“Yes! my pretty caballero. The death mark is 
on your brow, but it can be wiped off.” 

“ What do you mean ?” asked Challice, struck by 
her earnestness, though he did not believe in such 
juggling with the unknown. “I can be in no 
danger here. I know no one in Majorca, and only 
arrived this morning !” 

“ It is true, senor, but you come not of your own 
will.” 


THE JADE EYE 


19 


‘‘How do you know that?” he demanded, some- 
what startled. 

“Am I not a gypsy, Englishman? Bah! Who 
can deceive Pepa? The future is written on your 
hand. Come, my master, cross it with gold and I’ll 
tell you a secret.” 

“ Ho ! I don’t believe in fortune-telling.” 

The gypsy tossed away his hand with a smile of 
disdain. 

“ You hold life cheaper than gold. Beware, fool- 
ish one! Go not to the mountains; there is dan- 
ger on winding roads.” 

“ I don’t intend to go to the mountains.” 

“That which brought you here will take you 
there. Up the winding road will you ride to-mor- 
row — if you escape the first danger.” 

“ What first danger ?” 

“ Ho !” she exclaimed, derisively, “ you give no 
gold and want la lago. I will tell you but this, my 
Busnee. Before you leave this fonda your life will 
be in danger. Escape that and your grave shall be 
on the winding road. It is written.” 

Startled by these sinister remarks he would have 
detained her, but, evading his grasp, she fiitted into 
the court-yard with a jeering laugh. 

“ Little devil !” soliloquized Challice, looking after 
her ; “ she seems to know a lot. Can she have any- 
thing to do with this jade eye business ? Hm !” 


20 


THE NAMELESS CITY 


The adventure caused him some disquietude. Ex- 
perienced as he was in reading faces and drawing 
deductions therefrom, he espied a menacing expres- 
sion in this woman’s eye which boded ill for him- 
self. He did not believe in the superstitious jargon 
of gypsydom, yet the circumstances in which he was 
placed were sufficiently peculiar to justify his attach- 
ing some value to her words. They either con- 
veyed a threat or a warning; and noting the savage- 
ness of her glance, he concluded it was the former. 
For a moment or so he pondered over the matter ; 
but being unable, for want of evidence, to come to 
a conclusion, dismissed the episode from his mind. 
His only course was to keep a sharp look - out for 
possible dangers, and for the expected messenger. 
When he saw this latter, the meaning of all this 
would probably stand revealed. 

‘‘ At all events,” said he, reentering the patio, “ I 
shall stay here and face out the matter. I didn’t 
take this journey to be bamboozled in this fashion. 
Before I leave Majorca I shall know all or else fulfil 
Pepa’s prophecy, and leave my bones on the wind- 
ing road.” 

A young muleteer, seated on the stone margin of 
the court - yard pool, thrummed bravely at a guitar, 
and sang. Heaven knows what, of love and woman. 
Pepa occasionally showed her red skirts in the 
crowd, doubtless busy telling fortunes. He heard 


THE JADE EYE 


21 


her high - pitched voice chaffing the men, but she 
made no attempt to come near him. IN’or did lie 
desire such an attention, as he had no desire to fulfil 
her prediction by awakening the jealousy of some 
gypsy lover. 

At first the crowd seemed good-natured enough; 
but with the leaven of Pepa working in the mass, 
such a state of things could not long continue. She, 
darting about like a restless Ate, did her best to stir 
up strife, and ultimately succeeded. Loud voices 
began to be heard, the throng encircled itself around 
two fighting men, and Pepa, her purpose accom- 
plished, scampered out of the patio with a derisive 
laugh. 

“Little devil!” murmured Challice, applying this 
epithet for the second time ; why is she setting 
them all by the ears?” 

He stepped forward to see the struggle. Scarcely 
had he moved when a knife whizzed past his ear, 
and buried its point in the wall, against which he 
had been leaning. Had he remained there a second 
longer it would have pinned him to the wood-work. 
At once the prediction of the gypsy fiashed across 
his mind, and he felt convinced that he was on dan- 
gerous ground. Her prophecy, this knife throwing, 
were both part of the same plan, and she had done 
her best to fulfil the warning. 

“ Hm !” said Challice, thoughtfully, “ I wonder if 


22 


THE NAMELESS CITY 


all this is got up for my benefit.” Locked in one 
another’s arms, two men were swaying heavily to 
and fro. The Englishman dodged round the out- 
skirts of the crowd to get a glimpse of the wrestlers. 

“ Who are they ?” he inquired of his neighbor. 

“ Flamencos !” answered the man ; then, seeing his 
questioner was still unenlightened, added, ‘‘ Zincali.” 

“ Oh, gypsies ! Queer ! Pepa is a gypsy ; that 
knife was thrown by one of those fighting gypsies. 
Hm ! I begin to think there’s trouble ahead.” 

By this time the larger of the men had forced the 
other under, and was holding him down by the 
throat. He then bent forward and whispered some- 
thing to his antagonist in an unknown language. 
Challice could only catch one word, “ Jara.” 

“What is Jara?” asked he of his muleteer friend. 

“ A hag ! a hag ! Queen of the Gales ! devil take 
her,” replied the ^ other, hastily crossing himself. 
“ See how the spell works, the fight is over. Ac- 
cursed Flemings, they devour not one another.” 

All this time the fallen man had lain prostrate 
under the grip of his conqueror. This latter ended 
his whispering, and permitted the other to rise, 
whereupon he made ofi like a deer. Evidently the 
speaking had more hand in this than the wrestling. 
His antagonist, a Herculean monster for size and 
muscle, parted the crowd right and left with a few 
strokes of his arms, and came straight to Challice. 


THE JADE EYE 


23 


“ Are you hurt, rye ? Did the knife strike he 
said, in excellent English. Job !” catching sight of 
the weapon still remaining in the wall, “ he missed. 
So much the better. I should have had his heart 
had he slain you, brother.” 

‘‘ Who are you, and why do you call me brother?” 
demanded Challice, hoth astonished and annoyed at 
this speech. 

“ My name is Goliath Hicks,” replied the gypsy, 
leading Challice out of ear-shot of the crowd ; “ I call 
you brother because you also carry this.” 

He produced a jade eye and held it up between 
finger and thumb for the inspection of Challice. The 
Englishman, without making reply, took the other 
jade eye out of his pocket and compared it. In all 
respects they were similar. 

“Two eyes, brother,” said Goliath, cheerfully. 
“You can see in the dark now.” 

“ I can see that you are the person whom I was to 
meet here, but I am still ignorant of your reason for 
calling me brother.” 

“ All in good time, rye ! I shall tell you all during 
the journey to-morrow.” 

“ What journey to-morrow ?” 

“ Why, the journey over the mountains, to be sure. 
Don’t we search for the land of Egypt at dawn ? 
It’s true, my pal. The devil be in my soul if I lie.” 

The words Of Pepa again recurred to Challice. The 


24 


THE NAMELESS CITY 


first part of her prediction had been fulfilled ; why 
not the second? Moreover, this man, though pro- 
fessing to explain all, revealed nothing. Challice re- 
turned the jade eye to his pocket with a stamp of 
annoyance. 

“ I don’t intend to move from here without an ex- 
planation,” he said, resolutely^. 

At the end of the journey there is one who can 
explain, brother. The jade eye came from her, 
you—” 

“ From ‘ Her !’ ” repeated Challice, sharply ; “ is it 
then a woman who sent the message ?” 

“ Aye, brother.” 

“ And her name is Ingraham- — Isaia Ingraham.” 

“ Job ! It is not that, rye. It is an old woman 
whom you shall see. The Mother of all the Gales ! 
Your mother and mine, brother.” 

What do you mean by this parrot cry of mother 
and brother ? Who are you ?” 

‘‘ Goliath Hicks ! I am a Eommany of England — 
well known on the Kent roads, brother. I saw you 
nine months ago.” 

“ Ah,” said the young man, suddenly enlightened. 
“ I thought your face was familiar ; you are the beg- 
gar who spoke to Mrs. Ingraham.” 

It is true, brother. I swear it is so.” 

This new* discovery set the wits of Challice to 
work. He began to see a connection between this 


THE JADE EYE 


25 


Majorca episode and Mrs. Ingraham. Evidently 
she had to do with the sending of the jade eye, and 
required his presence on the island. For what pur- 
pose he could not conjecture, still less that she should 
envelop the affair in mystery. 

“ I always said she was a Sphinx,” was his 
comment on these thoughts. Meanwhile Goliath, 
too civil to interrupt his meditations, was eying 
him interrogatively. Then, when he raised his 
head, 

“ You will come with me to Egypt, brother?” 

“ To Egypt,” repeated Challice, vaguely ; “does 
one travel to Egypt ma Majorca ?” 

“Hot that Egypt, brother. Egypt of the Gales 
beyond the mountains. Few know where it is and 
none enter it save those of our blood. You go to it 
to-morrow, and that is why I call you brother, my 
Rommany Rye.” 

“ I ! Do you mean to say I am a gypsy ?” 

“ Aye, brother ! If you were not, who would ask 
you to come hither to Egypt ! Hot Jara.” 

“ But, my good fellow, you are talking nonsense. 
I know my pedigree for hundreds of years, but 
never to my knowledge did I have a gj^psy ancestor.” 

Goliath scratched his chin, and looked sharply at 
the handsome face of the young man. 

“ Blue eyes, yellow hair,” said he, staring hard ; 
“you look a gorgio, but the Rommany drop is in 


26 


THE NAMELESS CITY 


your blood. You couldn’t get to Egypt else. Can 
tute raker Rommany 

‘‘ What language is that 

“ E-ommany. I ask you if you can speak it 

‘‘Never heard of it before,” said Challice, bluntly. 
“ I thought you gypsies spoke gibberish.” 

“Ho! ho! Why, brother, we speak the oldest 
language in the world.” 

“ I’m quite in the dark about this business, Go- 
liath. I was called from England, I know not why, 
and yet you don’t seem able to explain things.” 

“ The Mother of the Gales alone can do so. But 
if you knew nothing, brother, why did you come 
here ?” 

“ For reasons of my own ; but I am not certain 
that I shall go on with this adventure.” 

“ Wliy not, pal ?” 

“For one thing. Pepa warned me against the 
winding road.” 

Goliath started on hearing this remark, and 
pinched his chin between thumb and forefinger in 
a meditative fashion. 

“Pepa and Pharoah,” he muttered, anxiously; 
“ what lay are they on now ? I must tell Jara.” 
Then aloud, with sudden conviction, “There’s no 
danger on the road, rye. You are safe with me.” 

“ How do I know that?” 

“ J ob ! Why should I harm my brother, my pal ? 


THE JADE EYE 


21 


Dog does not eat dog! Are we not of the gentle 
Eommany both?” 

For some moments Challice held his peace, weigh- 
ing in his own mind the for and against of this 
proposition. Of a remarkably temerarious disposi- 
tion, he courted rather than avoided danger. This 
was an adventure after his own heart. Its danger 
only enhanced its attractiveness. Also, it was con- 
nected in some way with Mrs. Ingraham. These 
considerations turned the scale in favor of Goliath, 
and he accepted the gypsy’s guidance with certain 
reservations. 

“I accept, Goliath. But I won’t travel by night, 
and you must ride in front.” 

“ Master, it shall be so. From dawn till dark will 
we ride, I before, you in the tail.” 

“ Good ! I will come to-morrow. But remember, 
Goliath, I carry a revolver, and know how to use it. 
Any tricks on your part, my friend — ” 

“ Eight ! right ! Do what you will. It’s a bar- 
gain, rye. My life for your safety.” 


CHAPTER II 
THE WINDING KOAD 

“ Good-moening, brother.” 

“ Good-morning, Goliath. I see you have brought 
the mules.” 

“ Better mules there are not, rye. Over the 
mountains they will bear us like tlie wind. Are 3-Ou 
ready for the journey, brother ?” 

Challice grew meditative. The answer to so per- 
tinent a question required some consideration. 

“Yes!”' said he, at length; “I do not embark on 
this journey unprepared. My breakfast is over ; I 
have purse and pistol. Also,” he added, with em- 
phasis, “ the fullest intention of keeping my eyes 
open.” 

“ Tute needn’t be attrash.” 

“I don’t understand Kommany, my friend.” 

“ I said you needn’t be afraid. Are you not a 
dial and a brother ?” 

“You say so,” replied the young man, dryly. 
“However, we can discuss that daring the jour- 
ney.” 

Mount, then, rye ! By the middle hour we shall 


THE WINDING ROAD 


29 


be at Seller. Egypt may see us when the owl is 
out.” 

In a few moments they were jogging along sub- 
urban roads on their way to Egypt. Where that 
might be Challice had no idea, so he surrendered him- 
self entirely to the guidance of Goliath. There was 
something trustworthy about the swarthy face of the 
man, and Challice was satisfied that he wished him 
no ill. As they rode through the fresh morning air 
Goliath — evidently of a talkative turn of mind — 
kept up a continuous monologue. His companion, 
less light-hearted, listened absently, and at length 
became so engrossed in his own thoughts as to pay 
no attention to such idle out-pourings. 

This adventure smacked of Dumas’s romances. 
With no hard and fast beginning, Challice questioned 
whether it had an end. Withal, every step was 
fraught with mystery. Beyond guiding him to 
Egypt, the gypsy by his side had as little idea of 
what it all meant as himself. Had he been set down 
on another planet he could not have been more ig- 
norant of his surroundings. He knew not Majorca, 
he was quite in the dark as to the purport of the 
journey, scarcely was he acquainted with Goliath. 
In fiction such blindness would have been judged 
unnatural, yet here it was in real life, with Challice 
for hero. Challice, who prided himself on his 
knowledge of life, Challice the shrewd, distrustful 


30 


THE NAMELESS CITY 


man of the world, yet withal Ghallice who, on insuf- 
ficient grounds, followed a doubtful guide into a 
doubtful country. 

Goliath had promised to tell him all he knew, and 
though Ghallice guessed it was of no great impor- 
tance, he nevertheless questioned the gypsy with 
considerable astuteness. At the first pause in his 
companion’s monologue he seized the opportunity 
of cross-examination. 

“ This road goes to Miramar, brother,” said Go- 
liath ; “ but we turn off yonder to climb the mount- 
ains. From thence we look down on Soller. Ho ! 
ho! they fear the Ghals in Soller. Beyond is 
Pingh Major, the high hill. Egypt is there.” 

“ Egypt, Goliath ?” 

“ A city, my brother. A city of caves, hid- 
den in a gorge of the hills. The home of those 
wdio have no home. The resting-place of the 
Ghals.” 

And its name ?” 

“ It has no name, master. There is a spell over 
the city, and the name may not be spoken. If it 
were known and told then would the Kommany lose 
their home.” 

“ It has a name, then ?” 

“ Some say one thing, some say another ! I say 
nothing. For me it is a nameless city. I call it 
Egypt, but it is not Egypt.” 


THE WINDING KOAD 


31 


“I never heard of a gypsy city before, Goliath. 
Your race generally live in tents.” 

Few know that Egypt exists save the dials, 
brother. It is the nest of our people, and there 
dwells the Mother of the Gales.” 

“ Then the precise locality is supposed to be kept 
secret ?” 

Goliath cracked his whip smartly, to intimate that 
secrecy was a matter of indifference. 

“ The Busnees know it, brother, but they come 
not near. City of Devils is their name for it. It 
would be if they entered our gates. The spells are 
powerful there, rye.” 

‘‘ Surely you don’t believe in such supersti- 
tions?” 

Aye, brother ! It is in my blood. Dukkeripens 
are true.” 

Dukkeripens?” 

“ The Rommany for fate - telling, pal. Stars, 
hands, cards ! — they cannot lie. I believe in what 
is, rye. It is written.” 

By this time they were climbing the mountains. 
Seized with sudden dismay lest he might not see 
Palma again, Challice halted his mule to look down 
on the fair country below. The plains stretching to 
the city were covered with orange groves, lemon- 
trees, and aromatic shrubs. Palma, with its back- 
ground of sea, melting imperceptibly into sky, glim- 


32 


THE NAMELESS CITY 


mered fairy-like through morning mists. Over the 
mountain -road palms and gray olive-trees dipped 
from crumbling banks, stayed by lichened stones. 
The air breathed perfumes, and the sun burned hotly 
on the white dust under the feet of their mules. To 
live in this enchanting land is to enter paradise 
without dying. The rarefied atmosphere exhilarated 
like champagne, and inspired Challice to causeless 
laughter, Goliath to a burst of eong. 

“ I rakei adro lo lolo gad,” sang the giant, crack- 
ing his whip to the melody. 

“What does that mean ?” interrupted Challice. 

“ The girl in the red chemise, pal. A gay Kom- 
many song, is it not 

“Very ! Written on Pepa, I presume. She is as 
scarlet as a cardinal.” 

“ Pepa,” said Goliath, refiectingly. “ Tell me, 
brother, do you know anything of Pepa ?” 

“No more than that she told me her name, and 
offered to reveal the future. I refused, whereupon 
she warned me to beware of death.” 

“ Ah, chovihani,” murmured the gypsy ; “ it is as 
I thought. You wished Jativo to kill the rye.” 

“ The deuce ! This becomes interesting. Who is 
Jativo ?” 

“ He who fought with me, brother. I saw him 
sling the navaja and tried to prevent him doing so. 
It was too late; but as you moved in time all was 


THE WINDING KOAD 


33 


well. Then I fought and conquered, and bade him 
flj in the name of Jara.” 

“ Why should Jativo wish to kill me 
I know not, brother. He is the rom of Pepa, a 
lord of the horseshoe. What the gorgios call a black- 
smith. It is she, rye, not he.” 

‘‘ You mean to say that she wants me killed 
Job ! I do, brother. But never fear; I shall con- 
duct you safely to Egypt. There none dare harm you.” 

Challice eyed his companion doubtfully. That 
narrow escape from death daunted his spirit, the 
more so as he could not conjecture the reason for 
Pepa’s dislike. Apparently he was environed by 
perils, their very invisibility adding to their menace. 
So oddly was the man constituted that the nearer the 
danger the higher rose his courage to meet and 
baffle it. 

‘‘Yet Pepa warned me particularly against the 
winding road,” said he, in objection to the last 
remark. 

“ Bad,” ejaculated Goliath, shaking his head. “We 
come- to the winding road when Seller is behind us. 
There we must feel our eyes, pal. You have the 
pistol ? Good ! It may be useful to give the lie to 
Pepa’s fortune-telling.” 

“ Pepa again.” 

“And Jativo! Duveli Queer things are about, 
brother. I sha’n’t be sorry when we get to Egypt.” 


34 


THE NAMELESS CITY 


They arrived at Seller on the stroke of noon. A 
sleepy town in a sleepy valley, lethargic with heat 
and idleness. In the almost deserted streets reigned 
a Sabbatic stillness. The stream bisecting the mass 
of dilapidated houses murmured hoarsely, and an oc- 
casional song broke forth from some hidden corner. 
Grass grew plentifully in the streets, and but few 
figures moved over the pavements. Even the arrival 
of strangers roused but little curiosity in this somno- 
lent hamlet, and the travellers clattered almost un- 
noticed into the central square. 

“ The Garden of Sleep,” quoth Challice, dis- 
mounting. 

Outside a hospederia, under the very shadow of 
Pingh Major, Challice ate some eggs, bread, and 
grapes. These, with thin red wine, were all the pro- 
visions procurable in this place, and were brought by 
the host for his exclusive use. Goliath was studiously 
neglected ; and seemingly accustomed to such treat- 
ment, devoured black bread and garlic sausage pro- 
duced from one of his capacious pockets.* Over this 
hermit’s fare he grinned at the host, who scowled 
savagely in return, but not without a suspicion of 
dread in his eye. 

Go, evil one,” cried he, shaking his fist at the 
gypsy. “ Get hence to the City of Devils, and leave 
us in peace.” 

“ Jek — ani — trin — schtar,” shrieked Goliath, and 


THE WINDING ROAD 


35 


springing on his mule set off at full gallop. The 
innkeeper, believing the gypsy had cast a spell, 
howled with terror and ran inside. Challice comino: 
up with Goliath, found him laughing. 

‘‘Ho! ho! my brother, what a foolish Busno; I 
did but count one, two, three, four, in Hungarian 
Kommany, and he thinks I have bewitched him. 
Holy water and the Pope for that one to-night.” 

“You have a fine reputation here, Goliath,” said 
Challice, laughing at the trick. 

“Aye, brother! It is good, so. Fear of the evil 
eye keeps these Busnee from our city.” 

“ Where is the city now ?” 

“ Yonder, pal. Where the hill frowns in the sun- 
shine.” 

He waved his hand towards the shadow of Pingh 
Major. The horn of the mountain thrust itself 
defiantly upward in the rarefied atmosphere, and 
showed here and there patches of snow. They rode 
along a level road between lines of date palms; 
farther on orange-trees hung over the crumbling 
walls, dropping balls of gold. A few of the six- 
armed windmills, peculiar to Majorca, ended the sub- 
urbs of Soller, and from thence a zigzag road wound 
upward. 

“ The winding road, Goliath.” 

■ “ It is so, master. But fear not ; my life for your 
life.” 


36 


THE NAMELESS CITY 


Despite this confident assurance Challice could 
not help glancing uneasily from side to side as they 
climbed the mountain. To the right the road looked 
down on the fertile valley and gray mass of Soller 
houses, but the left was rich with thickly foliaged 
trees, which might well hide a foe. What if he 
were to fall into an ambush ? He congratulated him- 
self on making Goliath ride in front, as if the gypsy 
intended treachery he would fall into his own trap. 

“Another three hours and we see Egypt, my 
brother. To-night you will sleep in our nest, and 
to-morrow ride back to Palma. Such a sight you 
will see as you never saw before.” 

“ What is that, Goliath 

“Mother Jara, brother, the Queen of the Gales. 
Over a hundred years old, and wise as Suliman bin 
Daoud.” 

“Hm!” Challice was sceptical on the point of 
the lady’s age, but not wishing to enter into a dis- 
cussion with Goliath, turned the conversation with a 
question he had frequently determined to ask. 

“ How is it you speak such good English, Go- 
liath?” 

“It is niy profession, brother. I am a Crocus— 
what you call a cheap -jack. Herb medicine I deal 
in on the road. I must speak well to sell well. 
There’s nothing wins the gorgios like gab. Bad 
patter means bad business.” 


THE WINDING EOAD 


3V 

‘‘ Have you a wife 

‘‘Aye, brother! My romi is in England. One 
of the London Lovels she is. I have one chabo — a 
brave lass. She can pen dukkerin rarely.” 

“ You mean she can tell fortunes ?” 

“ Truly, brother.” 

Goliath, not disposed to talk about his domestic 
affairs, hinted as much by the reserve of his tone 
and manner. Quick in observation Challice noticed 
such reticence, and harked back to his own concerns. 

“ Is Mrs. Ingraham a gypsy, Goliath ?” 

“Anan, brother?” 

“ The lady to whom you spoke that day.” 

“I know not, brother,” replied Goliath, doubtfully. 
“ She can rakker Kommany. I know no more.” 

“ Have you ever seen her in Egypt ?” 

“ Hever, brother ! Dorai ! I can answer no more 
questions. The Mother will say that which she 
wishes to say. Let us pad the hoof. That’s thieves’ 
speech for what I now do.” 

He urged his mule forward, and speedily turning a 
corner of the road was hidden from sight. Kot wish- 
ing to be left behind in so dangerous a locality Chal- 
lice lost no time in following his example. He made 
but one comment on the preceding conversation. 

“I can find out nothing from this man. But 
what can Mrs. Ingraham have to do with Majorca 
and gypsies ?” 


38 


THE NAMELESS CITY 


Speaking thus, he cast up his eyes to the sky, as 
though demanding an answer. Instead of the firm- 
ament he saw green leaves, and noted that he was 
riding under the branches of a large cork - tree 
stretching its boughs across the road. Furthermore, 
a gleam of sunshine glinted on the barrel of a rifie 
protruding from the foliage. 

“ Goliath !” cried Challice, loudly, and forced his 
mule onward. 

As he did so a jet of red fire spouted out of the 
rifle-barrel. He felt a stunning blow oh the back of 
his head, and confusedly heard the shouts of Goliath 
galloping back, as, with a sensation of sickness, he 
fell off his mule. After that the world became a 
blank. 

It looked as though the second prophecy of Pepa 
had proved truer than the first. 


CHAPTER III 


THE SIBYL 

As from a troubled dream he woke to the actuali- 
ties of life. He knew not the breadth of interven- 
ing time, nor comprehended as yet the strange cir- 
cumstances of his position. Struck down on the 
sun-scorched road, he opened his eyes in a haze of 
twilight dashed with recurrent flashes of flame. A 
skin spread on bare earth formed his couch, and the 
fitful flarings revealed a rugged roof, and rudely- 
sculptured walls. With every gush of light gro- 
tesque visages started from the prolific gloom, to flt 
in only too aptly with his sick fancies. Through the 
acridity of the close atmosphere streamed at intervals 
a current of snow-cooled air, touching with chilly 
caress his hot cheeks and dry lips. 

Cave, skins, images — these hints of barbarism by 
their very incompleteness gained in terror, so that 
every fragment leaping momentarily from the dim- 
ness increased his qualmish fears. The monstrous 
fantasy of such surroundings weighed him down 
with nightmare paralysis, and his confused brain 
could in nowise grasp their meaning, if, indeed, this 


40 


THE NAMELESS CITY 


phantasmagoria had a meaning other than the fancies 
of delirium. 

“Where am I?” he muttered, trying to raise him- 
self. “ Where am — ” 

The effort was too great, and his head, throbbing 
with pain, rolled back on the pillow. Over him bent 
a wrinkled face, scarred as those carven marks he 
had seen aforetime. Eound his neck slipped a bony 
arm, and a cup brim brushed his lips. With the bit- 
ter draught a wave of sleep obliterated his half-con- 
scious visions, and he fell into a disturbed slumber, 
peopled with figments of disjointed dreams. Again 
he awoke, this time with clear head and a due per- 
ception of all around him. 

It was still dark, but the red light, with less capri- 
cious glimmerings, illuminated a cavern of no very 
great extent. Skins of animals covered the floor, 
figured curtains hung between the caryatides, rude 
stools and chests sparsely furnished the place. In a 
rock-hewn space blazed a fire of olive-wood, the light 
of which served to reveal such barbarism. Before it, 
chin on hand, elbow on knee, crouched a woman 
crooning some lamentable strain, with constant re- 
petitions of the same melody. Challice, disquieted 
at the sight, raised himself slightly, the better to see 
her, whereupon she turned, still murmuring. 

For the moment he thought her a creature of 
dream, for surely no human being possessed so weird 


THE SIBYL 


41 


a face, so grotesquely terrible a head. Lean as a 
skull it was, with peaked chin and beaked nose, and 
a skin loose and yellow, puckered into a myriad 
wrinkles. Under a red handkerchief straggled wisps 
of white hair, and as from hollow caverns gleamed 
fierce eyes, filmed like those of an eagle. Huddled 
shapelessly in, the red light, she looked as. though her 
century of years were slowly but steadily crushing 
her downward to the grave. Too long had she cum- 
bered the earth, and Time, wrath at such vitality, 
forced her downward to the under world. 

“ Jara !” whispered Challice, half to himself. Low 
as was his voice she heard it, and gathering herself 
up into the semblance of a woman, tottered forward 
with a toothless smile. 

“Jara I am, sou,’’ she mumbled, in good Spanish. 
“ Mother of the Cales these many years. How feel 
you, child ?” 

“ Better, much better ! My head is clear.” 

“ Hah ! Death, I cheat thee again. Jara’s herbs, 
Jara’s wisdom close any grave, though widely it may 
gape. Take this cup of wine, my son. It will re- 
store strength and complete the cure. Sunlight 
dwells in the grape,” she continued, as he drank 
greedily; “it speeds the blood through the veins. 
Aye! aye! Well do I know its virtue. The sun 
for life, the moon for death. That to thee, this to 
me.” 


42 


THE NAMELESS CITY 


So murmuring she squatted close to the bear-skin, 
shaking her head. The draught refreshed Challice 
so much that in a few moments he sat up to ask 
questions. As was natural, his thoughts immediate- 
ly reverted to the episode of the winding road. 

‘‘Was it Jativo?” he demanded, eagerly. 

“ Jativo, my son ! Child of Satan as he is. But 
for Goliath, his hands on your throat would have 
finished the gun’s work. The bullet but grazed your 
head. Naught, it is naught, Chavi. Many have 
been farther on the unseen road than thee, yet has 
Jara guided them back to sunlight.” 

“ My life has been twice threatened.” 

“ True, dear child. There shall be no third time. 
My red cloak is about your feet — none dare touch 
what that protects.” 

“ And Pepa ?” 

“ Jativo and Pepa ! Kom and Komi ! Heed them 
not, my child. I deal with them after the manner 
of my people.” 

“That, of course, is none of my business,” retort- 
ed Challice, rendered somewhat savage by his late 
misfortune. “All I wish is to be left alone, and to 
be told the reason of my being requested to come to 
Majorca. Who was it that sent for me?” 

He had a lurking hope that the answer might be 
“Mrs. Ingraham,” but in place of this the old wom- 
an made an astonishing reply. 


THE SIBYL 


43 


“ I, child. It was I who sent for you. Is it not 
right that the granddame should see the grandson 

“ Granddame ! Grandson ! What mummery is 
this?” 

“ Truly, child, you are of my kin.” 

“ Kin of yours ?” 

“ Aye, it is so. I am thy great-granddame.” 

In angry astonishment Challice stared at the 
withered oracle. Many ideas had occurred to him 
relative to the secret, but this truth, if truth it 
were, transcended his wildest imaginings. That a 
Rommany ancestor should be thus clapped into his 
pedigree appeared no less improbable than ludicrous. 
The family - tree, as he knew it, gave no hint of so 
wild a twig, and preferring documentary to verbal 
evidence, he rejected the statement as false. So 
moved to wrath was the man by this, as it appeared 
to him, astonishing fiction that in some degree he 
lost his temper. 

“You are talking nonsense,” said he, with marked 
acrimony. 

“Hey!” ejaculated his hostess, in a higher key. 
“ Is it nonsense to have royal blood in your veins — 
to be kin to the gentle Rommany?” 

“I tell you it is absurd,” persisted Challice. “I 
saw my grandmother many times during her life. 
If looks go for anything, she was an English- 


woman. ^ 


44 


THE NAMELESS CITY 


“ A gorgio, my son — a rani of the Gentiles. Aye ! 
aye! false blood there. But your grandfather — ’’ 

“Was Mark Challice,’’ interrupted he, a vision 
crossing his mind of a bluff Saxon personality, pink 
and white, and yellow haired. “Surely you can’t 
say he was Rommany?’ 

For answer Jara threw up her skinny arms with 
a low chuckle. It might have signified pleasure, but 
it sounded somewhat demoniacal. 

“Your babus chavi was my son.” Then seeing a 
bewildered look on his face, substituted Spanish for 
Rornmany. “ Your grandfather was my son.” 

“ I don’t understand !” 

“Listen, child ; I am a great old witch ! I know 
many things. A hundred and ten years have I bur- 
dened the earth. Death has forgotten Jara! Ay, 
mi Dios, what stories could I tell, miri kamli — true^ 
as your eyes. It was I who penned dukkerin to the 
tiny one. Great good -fortune did I promise him. 
Crowns of gold and bloody victories, but death in 
the distant isle. Aromali,” she continued, reflect- 
ively, “ he was a great gorgio, that one.” 

“ Who ?” asked Challice ; whereat she lifted her 
head with a proud gesture. 

“ Who but Napoleon, child ? The great one ! He 
knew all he was to be when I read his hand, yet he 
was naught in those days.” 

“ You foretold the fortune of Napoleon ?” 


THE SIBYL 


45 


Truly, son. So can you judge what weary years 
are mine. Queen of the Chals for nigh a hundred 
years. Soon shall there be a new Mother, but not 
Pepa ! — no ! no ! not Pepa.” 

And my grandfather ?” questioned Challice, 
bringing her back to the point from whence she was 
wandering. 

‘‘ My child, son— aye, my only child ! Late in life 
did I become a mother, when my rom was killed in 
the wars of the French (cursed be their nation !). My 
tiny bird became a strong-winged hawk, and sought 
far lands. Aye, a true Kommany was my son. 
Egypt nor I could not hold him, and our brethren 
everywhere knew his handsome face (accursed be 
that face, which brought him ruin !). In London he 
saw a rani of the Gentiles who loved him for that 
face. She left the Busnee (may lightning blast 
them !), and became his romi after our gypsy fash- 
ion. One chalo had they, and then her father (earth 
crush his bones!) lured her heart from the gentle 
Kommany. With the son of my son she fled to the 
roof of her kin (may they tire as oxen hereafter !), 
and left my child to die of weariness. Aye, sweet 
soul ! he died ; but she, the accursed Busno, married 
with a gorgio.” 

“ With Mark Challice 

‘‘Even so, quick-wit, even so! — with the gorgio 
did she wed. He held as his blood the son of my 


46 


THE NAMELESS CITY 


son, nor was it known that the Kommany drop was 
in the veins of the chalo. That was your father; 
pretty one.” 

‘‘ My father, then, was your grandson 

“ True ! true ! Why should I lie to thee, who art 
of my blood ? I am thy great-granddame, and thou 
the son of my son’s son.” 

“ What became, then, of my real grandfather ?” 

‘‘ He died, child, died ! No drao there but a sick 
heart. That Busnee wife had cast a spell on mouth 
and eyes (accursed be her and her dead !). But he, 
the son of my son, was brought with much care 
to manhood as the child of Mark Challice (burn 
him !), and none knew the truth save I, Jara of the 
Gales. The child -thief died, the child grew fair, 
and wedded with a Busnee woman. They, my own 
heart, were thy parents. Thou hast the wild blood 
in thee, sick one, and art the son of my son’s son. 
To tell this did I draw thee to Egypt, for I would 
fain see flesh of my flesh, bone of my bone, ere 
I die.” 

“A strange story !” was the comment of Challice, 
when she ceased speaking. 

‘‘Aye, very strange,” assented the hag, indifferently. 
“ Say I lie, if it so please you, but the truth stands 
hard in spite of words. My blood is in your veins 
— the Kommany drop that sent you roaming over 
broad rolling seas these many years. Ay, mi Diosl are 


THE SIBYL 


47 


you not the son of my son’s son ? Diddikai are you 
-only, but your handsome talus was a true blood 
Calo. Baro duvel ! in what body now hides my true 
love’s soul 

So wailing, she subsided into a heap on the floor, 
a huddle of clothes and nerveless limbs, scarce having 
anything in common with humanity. At times her 
lips babbled gypsy terms of endearment, but other- 
wise there was no sign of life. Heaven only knows 
across what weary desert of years she sent her 
thoughts, travelling back to middle age and mother- 
hood. In her time-worn body still beat a mother’s 
heart, in her dulled brain still lurked the memory of 
a dead face, limned afresh with startling distinctness 
by the presence of her descendant. 

On his side, Challice was not unwilling to be left 
to his own thoughts. Hard of belief as was the tale, 
yet he was disposed to give it credence. From the 
incidents of his past life he adduced a hundred evi- 
dences of its truth. The Challice family had been 
stay-at-home country squires for centuries, but with 
his father and himself a new strain entered into the 
somnolent race. An inbred desire for roaming gov- 
erned their lives, so what was this but the outcome 
of that unsuspected gypsy element? In a South 
American forest his father perished under the savage 
arrow, and he on several occasions escaped by the 
merest good -fortune a similar fate. Ever since he 


48 


THE NAMELESS CITY 


could remember a restless spirit had stirred him to 
incessant wanderings. He was what the Spaniards 
aptly term an “aficionado,” and felt himself drawn 
towards barbaric life. Sky and tent he preferred to 
house and bed, nor had his wealth served him in any 
way except to gratify his love of travel. Prairie 
mustang, ocean tramp, pedestrian knapsack, he knew, 
and loved them well. From the time he played 
truant at school to this latest journey to Majorca, 
he had devoted himself to exploration. Cities had 
no charm for his nature; bu't woods, seas, plains, 
mountains, these lured him to their solitudes with re- 
sistless charm. Often he wondered at the ingrained 
savagery of his nature, unaware of its source. This 
was the truth. He was a Kommany, a born wan- 
derer, and the wild blood of the Gales running in 
his veins overwhelmed the feebler current of the 
gorgio. A Challice he was not, save in name, and 
that by accident. 

“It must be true,” said he aloud, thus thinking 
out the question. 

The old woman’s eyes lit up. “ Aye, it is true, 
child,” she muttered; “it is true as the stars. Blue 
eyes and yellow locks you have, as any gorgio, but 
the gypsy eye is in your head — the eye to curse and 
blight.” 

“Ah!” cried Challice, with sudden recollection, 
“what the Neapolitan said is true. I am a jettatura.” 


THE SIBYL 


49 


“He ! he ! my son ! I know that word. You have 
the evil eye, and can blight at will.” 

“Pah! I don’t believe in such superstition.” 

“ Aye ! There spoke the white blood of the Bus- 
nee. Would that Pharaoh’s bullet had wrung it 
from your heart.” 

“ Pve lost quite enough blood in that way,” re- 
turned Challice, dryly, “and I warn you, mother, if I 
meet Pharaoh in your city I shall thrash him within 
an inch of his life.” 

“Brave! brave! Do what you will, my son, but 
first gain strength. Pharaoh is strong.” 

“How long must I remain here?” 

“ A day only, child. It was but four of the sun 
yesterday when you fell wounded, and soon it will 
be dawn. Fifteen hours have you lain there. But 
the herbs of Jara can cure you soon. By noon to-day 
you can walk in the city ; but touch not Pharaoh, my 
son, till two days pass.” 

“ You evidently don’t mind my thrashing one of 
your subjects.” 

“ Naught — it is naught,” said Jara; “he has sinned, 
so let him be punished.” 

“ I suppose I can return to Palma when I 
please ?” 

“When you please, child. But be wise, and re- 
main for some days. Who knows what the future 

may hold?” 

4 


50 


THE NAMELESS CITY 


“By-the-way, how did you know of my meeting of 
next June 

‘‘I know many things. A great old witch is 
Jara.” 

“ Do you know Mrs. Ingraham 

“ Anan, my son 
The lady whom I am to meet.” 

‘‘What? I know, I know! Time will reveal 
what I care not to tell. Come, son, drink this cup. 
It will send the brave blood through those stalwart 
limbs.” 

“But, mother — ” 

“ Nay, my sick one ! To-morrow or to-day I will 
tell you. Drink ! drink, or the fever may slay thee. 
Who fights with Death has a strong foe.” 

Thus adjured Challice drank off the medicine, and 
began to grow drowsy. The fire, now sinking low, 
sent out fitful jets of fiame, and Jara again, huddled 
before the blaze, crooned her ditty. With the 
dreary melody in his ear he sank to sleep, and lost 
all knowledge of the cave, the hag, the conversation 
in dreamless slumber. 


GHAPTER IV 


THE CITY OF THE CHAI 

Challice found himself in danger of becoming 
decivilized. Influenced by the surrounding prime- 
valism he retrograded, in no small degree, towards 
the condition of prehistoric man. The tension of 
the brain keyed up to civilized pitch, relaxed with 
inconceivable rapidity, and the resulting flaccidness 
narrowed his desires to the merest necessities of life. 
Shelter and fire, clothing and food, these were all 
sufficient to his present simplicity. Existence was 
thus reduced to its original elements, and the body so 
long tyrannized over by the brain in its turn became 
master. Never entirely assimilated to modern arti- 
ficialities, Challice thb Gentile gave place without 
difficulty to Challice the Eommany. Unchecked 
by social usages, the man slipped back into the 
golden age of unvexed tranquillity. Custom, envi- 
ronment — by such slight threads are we withheld 
from barbarism. 

This transmutation was not accomplished in a day, 
and close on a week elapsed before he felt the 
change in any noticeable degree. Yet so marked 


52 


THE NAMELESS CITY 


became the preponderance of body over mind that 
even in so narrow a space he was conscious of the 
degradation. Heaven knows to what animal state 
he might have fallen had not an accident drawn him 
back to the higher planes of existence. Hot with- 
out many struggles did he recover his freedom, but 
in the end he beat back the indwelling beast to its 
natural subjection. 

Jara rightly foretold the time of his recovery. 
Her herbal remedies baffled the fever, and in twenty- 
four hours the cure was effected, although quite a 
week passed before he regained his normal strength. 
Keen mountain air, simple diet, constant exercise, so 
reinvigorated his frame that he felt stronger than 
before his illness. Ho restraint was placed on his 
movements, and accompanied by Goliath he roamed 
freely about the lonely hills. Otherwise than in 
such rambles he had little pleasure in his sojourn, 
for the monstrous fantasy of the city conduced to 
morbid thoughts. But for the cheerful animalism 
of Goliath, he would have grown melancholy in the 
nightmare atmosphere. Such companionship saved 
his spirits, it may be his reason. 

His actual experience of the place dated from the 
time he found Goliath sitting beside his pillow. 
Jara, with other ill dreams, have vanished with dark- 
ness, and he rejoiced to see this familiar face in the 
dusky sunlight. 


THE CITY OF THE CHAI 


53 


“ Where is she ?” he asked. 

“ The Mother is with Pharaoh, brother. She has 
cured you, and now must she punish him.” 

“ And Pepa also 

“ Pepa ! Job ! Pepa goes free, witch that she is. 
The worst fares best. But wet not your eyes, brother. 
Her punishment some day will come — through you.” 

“Through me?” 

“Aye, brother. How, I can’t tell you, but it is 
written so.” 

While thus conversing Goliath brought the young 
man grapes, bread, and a cup of wine. Challice, 
hungry with prolonged fasting, greatly enjoyed this 
singular meal. At its conclusion he laved face and 
hands in ice-cold water, dressed slowly with the 
gypsy’s assistance, and proposed to go out into the 
sunshine. 

“ Truly, it is mountain air you require,” assented 
Goliath. “ Jara’s herbs, God’s breath, and your own 
love of life these will cure you.” 

“ I feel better already, brother.” 

“ Job !” cried the gypsy, smiting his huge hands 
together, “ he knows the truth and calls me brother.” 

“ If what Jara says is true.” 

“ Aye, it is true. You are a Chal, and my brother. 
Fair as a gorgio you are, but the glossy eye of Egypt 
is in your head. I wish you could speak gentle Kom- 
raany, brother.” 


54 


THE NAMELESS CITY 


“You must teach me, Goliath.” 

“ Surely, rye ! You shall be master of the word 
before we part.” 

“How long am I to stay here?” 

“ So long as it pleases you. Job ! Do j^ou think 
we jail our brothers ?” 

“ Ho, no ! But Jara wishes me to stay.” 

“ Obey her, my brother. The Mother of the Gales 
has wise words for quick ears.” 

“ I intend to stay, Goliath. Hot so much for 
Jara’s asking, as for a reason of my own.” 

“You talk of the rani, rye?” 

“Of Mrs. Ingraham? Yes, I believe she is con- 
nected with this place — with the gypsies, and with 
this secret.” 

•“Did Jara not reveal the secret?” 

“Hot all of it. She said I was a half-bred Eom- 
many, but there are more revelations to come, and 
these concern Mrs. Ingraham.” 

“ It may be that you speak truly, brother. She 
will tell all at her own time. Ask me nothing, for 
I know nothing. I only guess.” 

“But, Goliath — ” 

“ Hay, nay, my tiny brother! Ask no questions.” 

Anxious as was Challice for information, he could 
not resist this appeal. The man spoke earnestly ; so 
repressing his curiosity, the Englishman yielded the 
point without further remark. 


THE CITY OF THE CHAI 


55 


“ Come, then, Goliath,” said he, turning the con- 
versation, “ show me the city, and tell me the mean- 
ing of these strange images.” 

“ These, brother, were the idols of our fathers.” 

“ You do not worship them ?” 

“Nay, brother, I worship nothing! When I die, 
I die! Sun, soul, song, they are not in the black 
earth.” 

“ A terrible belief !” 

“Show me a better, brother, and I believe. But 
you know what I know, and who knows more ? It 
may be that Jara is wiser. She is old and sees into 
the future, but not through the veil which hangs be- 
tween life and death.” 

‘ “ Where do these idols come from ?” asked Chal- 
lice, unwilling to prolong the discussion. 

“ Our fathers brought them from India, brother. 
We are men of Zend, they say — the Zincali; but who 
knows if this be true? Our fathers’ fathers came 
from far lands — it may be that Egypt saw the begin- 
ning of the journey. But of this,” he concluded, in- 
differently, “ I have no knowledge.” 

The huge images before which they stood were 
of red sandstone, carved into grotesque semblances 
of humanity. They inspired horror rather than 
mirth, and Challice understood from experience how 
the feeling deepened with the darkness. That de- 
lirious riot of firelight shadow and visage recurred so 


5G 


THE NAMELESS CITY 


vividly to his brain that, with a shudder, he hastily 
drew Goliath from the unholy place. 

“ I cannot stay here,” he declared, decisively ; 
“those monstrosities are sufficient to shake the 
nerves of the strongest. Let me live with you, 
Goliath.” 

“ All I have is yours, brother. But my cave is 
poorer than Jara’s.” 

“Do you all live in caves?” asked Challice, listlessly. 

“Truly, brother! Foxes in holes we are. But 
who would think so who saw this?” He alluded to 
the Cyclopean erection behind them. Undressed 
stones, based on a broad platform, were rudely piled 
one on the other as to form a dwarfish wall, pierced 
by a rugged gateway. The portal narrowed slightly 
towards the lintel, after the Egyptian conception of 
an arch, and on either side woman-bosomed sphinxes 
looked down a shallow staircase. From this eleva- 
tion a causeway inclining upward stretched towards 
a white veil wavering down a precipice, wdiich ended 
the vista. Squat, flat-roofed houses of red sandstone 
lined either side in sullen rows, and above these 
slaggy volcanic rock sloped backward to the menac- 
ing peaks. 

“Look, brother !” said Goliath, in the character of 
cicerone, “this is the gorge in the hills. Here are 
our burrows protected by red rocks. The caves with- 
in are many and large.” 


THE CITY OF THE CHAI 


51 


‘‘ You get little sunlight here, I fear !” 

^‘It is true, brother. But at noon the rays blaze 
so strongly that the rocks retain the heat till night. 
In summer a furnace were cooler than the gorge at 
midday. Then are we glad of our cool hollows.” 

“And that white veil yonder. A water-fall 

“ Surely, rye ! There the gorge is hollowed to a 
cup. The water, fed by snow, falls into the depths 
of the earth. Once it raged down the street, and 
poured through Jara’s cavern to the lands below.” 

“I see no outlet,” said Challice, staring at the 
wall built from side to side. 

“ Look behind you, brother. The cave opens to 
the outer world. All who would enter Egypt must 
come through the cave of Jara. She knows who 
comes, who goes ; and thus it is well with us.” 

This explanation accounted for the constant 
streams of cold air. The cavern piercing the mount- 
ains formed a tunnel into the gorge, through which 
flowed the currents, and here at this natural entrance 
sat Jara, like Sin at the Gates of Hell. There was 
something grand about the magnitude and desolation 
of this giant portal, with its withered porteress. 

“ Is there no other way of getting into the gorge?” 
asked Challice, as they walked up the street. 

“ ITone, brother. One is surely sufficient. Who 
can climb yon peaks to surprise our mysteries? 
Who can enter through the cave without Jara 


58 


THE NAMELESS CITY 


knowing their errand ? Oh, we are safe here, rye, 
till the day of doom.” 

“Unless the name of the city be known,” hinted 
Challice, mindful of their former conversation. 

“ Aye, brother, that is truth,” replied the gypsy, 
seriously. “ Whoso reveals the name brings evil to 
Egypt. But there is no danger. Jara alone knows 
the name, and she speaks not !” 

As they climbed slowly up the incline Challice 
noted and remarked that this street of tombs was 
quite deserted. 

“In the Cup are the people, brother,” explained 
Goliath ; “ they wait the punishment of Jativo !” 

“ No torturing, I hope,” said Challice, hastily. 

“ Nay, brother. It is not our custom to mar the 
body. Jativo hates work, and therefore will be set 
a heavy task.” 

“ An easy punishment.” 

“ Not to Jativo. He would rather have his head 
broken in a fight than shoe a gry. Up in his cavern 
yonder he must now labor at the anvil.” 

“ What about Pepa ?” 

“ She will go free, brother. Indeed, who can re- 
strain the wind ? Pepa roams far and wide. From 
Gibraltar to the Pyrenees is she known. The devil 
was born when she saw light.” 

“ Is she a favorite ?” 

“With the Busnee only. They do not know her 


THE CITY OF THE CHAI 


59 


evil ways as we do. As the ambitions witch — she 
would be Queen of the Gales hereafter.’’ 

“ Has she any chance of becoming so 

“ Who knows !” responded Goliath, indifferently. 
‘Ht is as J,ara wills it. She to whom Jara Reveals 
the name of the city becomes our Mother — none 
can rule who knows not the name. 

“ Have you no king ?” 

“Every family has its head, brother. There are 
kings and queens in plenty, but Jara is the Queen of 
all the Gales from west to east. We have no king 
with a like power.” 

This folk-lore conversation was interrupted by an 
exclamation from Ghallice as they emerged into the 
cup of the gorge. Here the rocks, rising abruptly 
to the serrated peaks, formed a complete circle, 
broken by street entrance and falling torrent. A 
fine spray arose from the chasm into which the 
latter plunged, and a hollow roaring reverberated 
through the gulch. As in the street, a girdle of 
houses ran round the circle, stopping short at the 
water-fall. In the centre arose a small pyramid of 
shining black basalt. 

“A strange place,” said Ghallice; “a murderous- 
looking place.” 

The epithet described it accurately. It was mur- 
derous-looking. Ho tree, herbage, or even grass 
clothed the naked ribs of the mountain. Only ap- 


60 


THE NAMELESS CITY 


peared the red-hued houses, barren gray rocks, their 
distorted peaks sharply defined against the blue, and 
over such desolation an arch of empty sky, vacant of 
bird or sunshine. A cutting wind whirled down 
the iron bleakness with whistle and moan. With 
slag and torrent, and terrific heights, it was as a 
haunt of damned souls. 

“Here,” muttered Challice, appalled by the out- 
look, “ here must Melancholia hold her seat — surely 
the City of Dreadful Night were less lamentable.” 

“’Tis sad, brother, ’tis sad,^” rejoined Goliath, 
glancing around. “Yet none live here save Jara — 
from all the lands come our brethren hither. Once 
in his or her life must a gypsy visit Egypt, but 
only a time do they abide. They come, they go, 
but Jara remains fixed as yon pyramid.” 

“ Is it a tomb ?” 

“ Nay, brother ; it is the storehouse of our treas- 
ures. All who come here bring offerings; in that 
monument are they stored. Its sides mirror the 
stars, and its base rests on golden foundations.” 

“ What a city of mysteries !” 

“Truly, rye, you are not far wrong, but Jara 
holds the key to them all. See you, brother, yon- 
der water-fall ?” 

“ What of it ?” 

“ Behind that veil sit the mummies of our rulers. 
When Jara dies, thither must she go.” 


THE CITY OF THE CHAI 


61 


‘‘ But how can you get behind the torrent 

“ That, brother, is also a mystery.’’ 

Even as he spoke there was a sound of many 
voices, the noise of many feet, and, as rabbits from 
a burrow, men and women thronged into the empty 
space. In strong contrast to their surroundings 
they were all gayly dressed. Beds and yellows 
predominated, nor was there wanting the glitter of 
gold nor flash of gem. In such raiment, with slim 
flgures and swarthy Eastern faces, none could mis- 
take them for anything but the Kommany. 

“ Jativo is judged,” they cried, laughing one and 
all ; flve hundred horseshoes must he make for 
Jara.” 

“ Oh, brave Pantulengro,” said Goliath, jeeringly ; 
‘‘see you, rye, what he receives for his folly?” 

“ A light enough punishment for such a scoun- 
drel. Is that not Jara ?” 

“ Aye, and Pepa !” 

It was indeed the old woman who hobbled across 
the oval. With coifed head, scarlet cloak, and long 
staff, she looked like some witch homeward bound 
from the Brocken. After her stamped Pepa, seeming- 
ly in a furious rage. At the pitch of her voice she 
scolded Jara, who at first took no notice, but at last, 
leaning chin on staff, turned to face the little fury. 
Her eyes flamed wrathfully, but she spoke quietly 
enough in Kommany. 


62 THE NAMELESS CITY 

% 

“ Witch child,” said she, beware lest I drive you 
from Egypt. Your rom sinned, he is punished. Sin 
you not, else may drao spice your food.” 

‘‘ For drao I care as little as for you, mother of 
cats,” retorted the undaunted Pepa. “Soon will 
you go thither,” pointing towards the water-fall, 
“ and I shall be Queen of the Gales.” 

“ First learn the city’s name, child,” answered 
Jara, with a sour smile. “Not to such as thee will it 
be revealed by Jara.” 

“ I will tear it from thy heart, evil one ; and when 
thou diest, my rom shall scatter thy bones. I will 
dance and sing, mother of all the fiends, as they dust 
the air.” 

And she sang : 

“ Thy bones shall he disperse^ 

While I call down with song 
On thy dead soul a curse.''"* 

“Ha! ha! ha! a viper is waiting for thy soul, 
mother ! Ha ! ha !” 

With a scream of elvick laughter she vanished 
into the crowd. Jara resumed her progress towards 
Challice, muttering angrily in Kommany ; 

“A curse on these daughters ! They lie with free 
tongues. The name of this is not for thee, my Pepa! 
Queen of the Gales ! Nay, nay ! The wife of my 
son’s grandson shall rule. Hey, child !” added she 


THE CITY OF THE CHAI 


63 


in Spanish, pausing before Challice. “ The rose 
comes to those cheeks again. I have punished the 
evil one.” 

“And cured me, mother.” 

“ Cured thee for the dreeing of thy weird.” Then 
turning towards the crowd, “Children of my soul, 
this is the son of my son’s son.” 

And all the people shouted, “Ah, how we love 
you, brother.” 


CHAPTER V 


THE RED WITCH 

Gladly enough did Challice leave Jara and her 
craven images to dwell with Goliath ; although, do- 
mestically speaking, the change was for the worse— 
at least, there were no idols, and fewer draughts. 
To sight and feeling the relief was great. Challice 
also, indirectly, benefited in another way, as his lug- 
gage was brought on from Palma by the thoughtful 
gypsy. Not yet sufficiently decivilized to dispense 
with cleanliness, he was thankful for a change of 
linen and clothing. Beyond this sybaritism, he lived 
as did his host, sleeping, wrapped in a blanket, on 
the bare ground, faring on fruit, water, and black 
bread. Sometimes Goliath would bring a kid and a 
skin of wine from Soller, with which luxuries they 
indulged their appetites. Such dainties finished, 
they returned philosophically to bread and water. 
It was a true savage life, plenty to-day, little to-mor- 
row, and either fortune bred contentment. 

After that genealogical revelation Jara held her 
peace. Despite the near neighborhood of her de- 
scendant, and frequent meetings with him in the val- 


THE RED WITCH 


65 


ley, she yet gave no hint of farther confidences. 
He, schooling himself to patience, awaited the 
speaking of this withered oracle, and meantime 
amused himself by mingling in the novel life 
around. Introduced to the cave-dwellers by Goliath 
lie w^as received as a brother, and rapidly made 
friends. Unfortunately, as few stayed longer than 
a week, such friendships were apt to terminate 
abruptly. 

The nomadic instinct of the gypsy was well ex- 
emplified by the fiux of this population. It changed 
every week with the utmost regularity, and ever a 
succession of new faces replaced the old. Hone of 
these pilgrims appeared to relish the melancholy 
gorge, and evidently regarded their seven days’ stay 
in the light of a duty. Incoming was a pain, out- 
going a pleasure ; therefore Challice guessed that 
they cared but little for the obligation. Such com- 
pulsion puzzled him not a little, and he ultimately 
referred his doubts to Goliath. 

“They come, they go,” said he, “and Jara alone 
remains constantly in the gorge. What is the 
meaning of these pilgrimages?” 

“ Truly, brother, it is more custom than aught 
else. When our fathers came from the East they 
founded this city of refuge, and hither came the 
Kommany when persecuted by Gentile kings. That 
was in the black ages, brother. Since Carlos Tercero 
6 


66 


THE NAMELESS CITY 


(hail to his memory !) we have had freedom, yet our 
brethren seek the city as of yore. They love it not, 
this place of tombs, but, as their fathers did, so do 
they.” 

“ I should think the city would be forgotten by 
this time.” 

‘‘ISTay, brother Where a Calo is, there is the city 
known And forget not, brother, that Jara is the 
ruler of our people. Many who seek justice come 
to the Mother, and her word is binding on all from 
high to low Therefore, brother, some have business 
in Egypt, and those who have not come hither from 
love of old customs.” 

“ Do all gypsies come ?” 

“ Once in a lifetime at least. ‘ Who sees not 
Egypt is no Egyptian.’ That is a proverb of the 
Kommany, brother.” • 

“Is there any religious feeling connected with — ” 

“Brother,” interrupted Goliath, with disdain, 
“ we have no religion. Yet it is true,” continued 
he, thoughtfully, “ that many believe the soul hides 
in beast and fowl and creeping things.” 

“ Ah ! metempsychosis !” 

“ I known not that word, rye.” 

“ The transmigration of souls.” 

“ Aye, brother. Mostly our women believe in 
such things. Did you not hear Pepa promise a 
viper’s body for the sheath of Jara’s soul ? Job ! It 


THE KED WITCH 


67 


is all lies. I die, you die, and thus we end. The 
dead are dead, brother, and who can rouse them by 
crying, ‘ Arise V ” 

A few days later Challice found a red ribbon in 
the cave. From its peculiar tint he guessed it to be 
an adornment of Pepa’s. How it got there he could 
not conjecture, as she had not been seen since the 
punishment of her rom. He, prisoned in a cavern 
higher up the gorge, worked at his forge, and, as 
Goliath surmised, Pepa, like a dutiful romi, bore him 
company. Challice regretted this seclusion, apparent- 
ly the outcome of connubial affection. He was anx- 
ious to see again one who piqued him by her inso- 
lence, and perplexed him by unexplained hatreds. 
Judging from what had happened, she was not the 
woman to thus acquiesce in the present order of 
things. She had plainly an object in view j and 
purposing to bring about her own ends, began ac- 
tion by the frivolity of a dropped ribbon. Goli- 
ath, when questioned, volunteered a similar explana- 
tion. 

I picked up this red ribbon in our cave,’’ said 
Challice, dangling it before the eyes of Goliath. 

“ Pepa !” observed the gypsy, and smiled. 

‘‘ Why do you smile, Goliath ?” 

“ Job ! a ribbon of that color is a love-token with 
us. Pepa hated you once, she loves you now.” 

You are not serious ?” 


68 


THE NAMELESS CITY 


“ Am I not ! Bind that ribbon on your left arm 
and see.” 

“ Why on the left arm ?” 

‘‘ She who left it asks for love. He who wears it 
thus accepts that love.” 

Suspicious of such untoward kindness, Challice 
gave voice to his distrust. “ It is another scheme to 
snare me,” said he. 

“ I doubt it,” replied Goliath. “ Pepa dare not 
harm you here. Did she slay you the Mother would 
mix drao for her.” 

‘‘ Drao !” 

Poison, brother. Pepa knows what drao is. She 
might try it on you; for if she fails to end you 
openly, she may try secret measures. Therefore, 
brother, eat nothing she offers you, take nothing 
from her ; she has the cunning of a fox.” 

“ What would Jativo say to this love-token ?” 

“ Pharagh is safe at his forge, as Pepa well knows. 
Come thither with me, rye, and we will show the 
witchwife’s favor.” 

“ Thank you, Goliath, but I don’t want a hammer 
at my head.” 

“ There is more fear for Pepa than for you, my 
brother. He would kill her if he knew she dropped 
that ribbon here.” 

“ It might be an accident,” suggested Challice. 

Goliath thrust his tongue into his cheek. “ Acci- 


THE RED WITCH 


60 


dent !■’ said he, ‘‘Pepa is too fly for that. Tie it on 
your left arm, rye, and see what will happen.” Af- 
ter which advice he departed, chuckling. 

Without hesitation Challice obeyed. Anxious to 
know more of Pepa’s nature and scheming,’ he 
deemed it good policy to make the second advance. 
She, with the ribbon, had hinted the flrst ; therefore, 
binding the love-token on his left arm, he went out 
to seek his fair enemy. As by magic she appeared 
round the shoulder of the pyramid. With a black, 
mantilla she had rnodifled the glare of her crimsons, 
and shedding perfume from a bunch of roses in her 
bodice, advanced boldly. One hand carried a spread 
fan, the other rested jauntily on her hip, and a cigar- 
ette between her lips gave the finishing touch to 
her picturesque insolence. 

Sarishan Rye !” said she. 

“I don’t understand Rommany,” answered Chal- 
lice, a trifle coldly. It is difficult to converse amia- 
bly with an ill-wisher. 

“Che cuckoo, with the single note, you have many 
things to learn.” 

“ Not as regards this.” 

He glanced at the ribbon fluttering at his elbow, 
and she, following his eye, laughed derisively, with 
a wilful pretence of grievance. 

“ You have the bar lachi, brother. The women 
love you.” 


70 


THE NAMELESS ClTV 


‘‘ Bar lachi !” 

‘‘ Loadstone, rje ! Bar lachi is loadstone. He who 
carries it draws all hearts. Come, senor, who is slie 
the spell has drawn 

A red cardinal with a black priest’s robe.” 

Seizing at once the allusion to her dress, Pepa 
dropped her fan to clap her hands. 

“ That is a true Kommanj answer,” she said ; 
“ not the truth, and yet the truth. I was all cardinal 
at Palma when I penned dukkerin.” 

“ Aye ! And did your best to have the prophecy 
fulfilled.” 

Pepa filliped away the stump of her cigarette and 
shrugged her shoulders. 

“ Said I not you had bar lachi, brother ? It saved 
you from steel and lead, and it has drawn my heart 
towards thee.” 

“I am not desirous of Jativo’s property.” 

With an angry gesture Pepa stamped her foot. 

“ Then return my token ; I will be Mary Padilla 
to no unwilling wooer.” 

“ Mary Padilla !” 

“ Aye ! She was Queen of the Gales, and the romi 
of Don Pedro.” 

“I remember now. The favorite of Pedro the 
Cruel ! A nice comparison, truly. Well — and she 
was Queen of the Gypsies, as you desire to be.” 

“As I shall be, Englishman,” corrected Pepa, 


THE RED WITCH 


71 


spreading her fan; “but what do you know of Egyp- 
tian affairs?” she continued, disdainfully. “You who 
are but half-kin to the Gales.” 

“Quite enough kin to secure your hatred!” re- 
torted Challice. 

“ What bee has stung you ? I hate a handsome 
stranger. By my faith, I am no despiser of good 
things. There is love here,” added she, significantly 
touching her breast, “ and it is for you.” 

“What about Jativo?” 

Pepa dismissed Jativo’s name with a snap of her 
fingers. 

“ That much is so much, senor. What of Jativo! 
I know not, nor does he. It might be that he dies ! 
Unlucky one! I turned the cards thrice for his 
future, and thrice did the death-card face me. It is 
written.” 

The sombre tone of her voice, the shadow on her 
face augured ill for Jativo. Quick to read such 
signs, Challice put liis thoughts into words. 

“ Do you wish him dead ?” 

“ Why should I ? He is my rom. Should he die 
I would tear* my hair, and weep tears of blood after 
the fashion of our people. Then,” added she, look- . 
ing languorously at Challice, “ it may be I shall take 
another rom.” 

“Here is your ribbon, Pepa ! I care for no romi 
who prophesies so truly.” 


72 


THE NAMELESS CITY 


senor,” she replied, liaving sufficient wit to 
note the spent arrow. Keep you the ribbon — blame 
me not for my love! What can I do against one 
who carries a piece of bar lachi 

“ I do not carry bar lachi.” 

“ Then how strong must be the glances of your 
eyes. They are true bar lachi for such as I. My 
faith I could light this cigarette at ther blaze. What 
says the song, camarada : 

“ ‘ The glance of a gypsy eye 
Burnt up my heart within me, 

Without heart, without love I die 

‘‘therefore, Englishman, be sparing of your glances. 
Blessed John, the lire is out of your ej^e. Give me 
flint and steel, pretty lad.” 

Much amused at her impish ways, Challice struck 
a match. Their Angers touched, and a thrill ran 
tlirongh his body. Despite his devotion to Mrs. 
Ingraham, it was difficult to act the St. Anthony to 
one so bent on taking by storm his heart. The blood 
of Challice, heated by southern suns,- sang in his 
veins. With a great effort, under the fire of her 
glances, he withdrew his fingers abruptly. She not- 
ing such a confession of timidity, lighted her cigarette 
with a mocking smile — a smile that hinted at con- 
cpiest. It was altogether too shameless a wooing. 


THE EED WITCH 


Hardly pressed, Challice began to retreat. She fol- 
lowed laughing. 

‘‘ Fly not, my enemy ! Is your head weaker than 
3mur heart?” 

By no means,” said he, flushing an angry red, 
“ ’tis stronger. Therefore I depart from so danger- 
ous a neighborhood.” 

“A pretty compliment prettily paid. Will you 
not smoke with me, my gracious hidalgo?” she add- 
ed, offering a handful of cigarettes. 

Challice, mindful of Goliath’s warning, politely 
declined. 

‘‘Ah, bah !” said Pepa, throwing the cigarettes 
awa3\ “You are no man, but a priest — a priest,” 
she repeated, -with a petulant stamp. “Is there no 
way of heating the water in your veins?” 

“I think not. And, after all, why try so uncon- 
genial a task. You are Pharaoh’s, and I — another’s.” 

“You have a romi?” she questioned, in an altered 
voice. 

“Not yet, but I soon shall have.” 

“Oh!” said the brunette, mockingl3q “some 3^el- 
low-haired rani.” 

“Indeed, she is as fair as you, Pepa.” 

For the startling effect of this remark he was not 
prepared. With pantherine grace she leaped for- 
ward and griped his wrist. Her face was not a 
pleasant sight at the moment. 


14 


THE NAMELESS CITY 


‘‘ Is she a Kommanj 

“ I don’t think so,” replied Challice, really express- 
ing his doubts. 

Pepa dropped his wrist with a sigh of relief. 
‘^Good,” she muttered, “if not gypsy, I care not 
who or what she is. Without true blood he can do 
nothing.” 

“ What do you mean ?” 

“Give me your hand, Englishman,” she said im- 
periously ; “ the left ! the left !” 

“ No more prophecies of death, Pepa.” 

She paid no attention to the remark, but followed 
the lines of his hand with slow finger. 

“ Surprise and danger and marriage,” said the 
sibly, hurriedly. “This for loss of wealth — that for 
happy mating, Dios!” in shrill triumph, “the line 
of failure — of failure, my gray one;” finished she, 
sticking the cigarette in her mouth, and nodding 
her head. 

“ What are you talking about — to what — ?” 

“Never you mind, hombrecillo. Be content with 
love and happy marriage. Your failure is my suc- 
cess. It is a true bahi,” and with that, clapping her 
hands, she blew a cloud of smoke. 

“You are a Sphinx,” said Challice, perplexed by 
these emotions. “ I thought there was but one.” 

“And that, no doubt, a woman. Eh, my brave 
senor, all women are Sphinxes, know you not that? 


THE RED WITCH 


75 


Ignorant one, who bat a woman can read my riddle? 
Ask Jara !” 

She swung off with a jeering laugh, which brought 
the blood to his cheek. Trust a woman by word 
and glance to bring such heart- tides to high water. 

“Well! well!’’ cried he after her, “I shall ask 
Jara ! One last word,” added the conquering, using 
the only weapon in his armory, “ this ribbon !” 

“My ribbon!” said she, returning with a bound, 
“ you fear my spells, I see.” 

“No Pepa ! I fear neither you nor your spells.” 

Pepa flung her fan in the air and canght it deftly, 
whistling shrilly the while — evidently some scheme 
was being brought to fulfilment. 

“ I am about to try my witchcraft on you,” said 
she, mockingly. “ Nay ! do not stir, I but wish to 
dance for your pleasure; here is my music,” she 
added, as a morsel of humanity appeared on the 
scene. “ Zargo shall play and I dance. Come, my 
chilly Englishman, do you not love the castanettes?” 

With a consenting smile Challice leaned back 
against the slant of the pyramid, and produced a 
cigarette. 

“ Dance on, daughter of Herodias ! I am no John 
the Baptist to lose my head to your nimbleness.” 

Disdainfully smiling, she signed to Zargo to begin. 
At the first note of the dwarf’s guitar, as developed 
out of thin air, an audience filled the vacant space. 


76 


THE NAMELESS CITY 


Pepa’s dancing was famous, but it was rarely she 
obliged her own people with an exhibition. That 
she should so far favor Challice, showed her wish to 
bring him to her feet without loss of time. The 
dwarfish musician thrummed industriously at his in- 
strument, and Pepa filing her fan to Challice. 

“Hold it well, Englishman. The bolero, Zargo ! 

OIL” 

With a brisk rattle of the castanettes, she bounded 
into the circle of onlookers. Foot pointed, body 
thrown back, arms gracefully aloft, she began the 
dance with slow swayings. The staccato notes of 
the guitar echoed richly to the ear, broken rhythmi- 
cally by the castanettes’ sharp click. From side to 
side leaped the dancer, her light feet scarce imprint- 
ing the sandy soil. With every whirl of her skirts 
the sequins jingled rnusicalljq and a shower of petals 
fell from the shaken roses on her breast. As tTie 
music moved faster, more frantic grew the dancer, 
bounding high in the air, sinking with ballooning 
draperies to the ground. Round and round the a]v 
plauding circle she span incessantly. When near 
Challice she filing him a rose, again the red ribbon, 
and at length, exhausted by the fury of music and 
dance, stopped short in graceful poise, as though 
turned on the second to stone. Loud applause fol- 
lowed, in the midst of which hand -clapping, Pepa 
sprang towards Challice. 


THE RED WITCH 


77 


“ My fan, my rose, my ribbon,” said she, breath- 
lessly. 

“ Take the fan,” he replied, looking steadily at the 
rich darkness of her face, ‘‘ but rose and ribbon I 
shall keep.” 

Fanning herself in slow sweeps, she moved silent- 
ly away, hand on hip, with backward looks and 
victorious smiles. So glancing, so smiling, she dis- 
appeared in the crowd, leaving Challice, with rose 
and ribbon, spell-bound by her evil grace. 


/ 


% 


CHAPTER VI 

THE PYRAMID 

After the brief Carnival of Pleasure came (as 
was inevitable) the Lent of Repentance, and the bet- 
ter part of Challice took the worser to task for that 
untoward revolt. Commoved to self-reproach, he 
scarce could pardon his own delinquency. Yet in 
time (so tolerant are our judgments) this mood 
melted to one more gracious. On mature reflection 
he became conscious of an excuse or so, that justifled 
in some measure his unsteady virtue. Hot youth — 
this was the argument — hot youth by yielding beauty, 
is as tire by gunpowder. The resultant ignition, by 
flame or eye, is but the consistent evolution of nat- 
ural laws. To take shame to himself for such were 
to disparage the economy of this excellent universe. 

And, after all, he had but sinned with his eyes. A 
mere imprudence, having regard to the provocation 
received. Pepa was well worth the admiration she 
had won, and such artistic approval as he had given 
her in nowise resembled his devotion to tlie one in- 
comparable woman. One can adore a star, yet trifle 
with a rose. In this instance the application of the 


THE PYRAMID 


79 


apothegm is obvious. The distiDction truly is some- 
what fine, nevertheless it is a distinction, and one satis- 
factory to the not over-exacting mind of Challice. 

By such comparisons did he measure his sin, till 
it dwindled to a mere indiscretion. Kestored to self- 
esteem he made speed to remount the pedestal of 
egotism, and thus regained serenity of mind and 
body. So largely does an artistic temperament 
hamper morality in the clean run of its duty. 

“ Nevertheless,” said he to Goliath, while so crack- 
ing moral nuts, I must leave this place at once.” 

“ And wherefore, brother ?” questioned the gypsy, 
ignorant of the mental conflict preceding this deter- 
mination. 

“In a word — I mistrust Pepa.” 

Goliath grinned. He was human himself, and 
appreciated the dangers of temptation. 

“ You fear her smiles more than her frowns, rye,” 
he observed. 

“ Man is but a weak creature,” said Challice, sen- 
tentiously, “ and Pepa, versed in the arts of seduc- 
tion, would conquer St. Anthony himself. She only 
makes love to gain her own ends, and knowing this 
I should be proof against her fascinations. I wish 
to keep my head,” he added, doubtfully, “ and so 
would place a mile or so between us.” 

Goliath coincided, and gave his reasons. 

“ Pepa is a witch,” he remarked, with much truth. 


80 


THE NAMELESS CITY 


“ She knows her rom would kill her and you if he 
suspected there was anything wrong. To her own 
wit she trusts for safety, but is quite ready to sacri- 
fice you.” 

“ For what reason 

‘‘ There you have me, brother. I don’t know 
what schemes she has in her head ; but sure am I 
that they mean good to herself, and evil to you.” 

‘‘ In that case the wisest plan would be to leave.” 

“As you please, brother. You are no prisoner, 
and I am at your service to guide you back to 
Palma. Still, before leaving it would be wise for 
you to see Jara, and that reminds me,” added Go- 
liath, smiting his forehead with open palm, “that 
reminds me that I forgot to give you her message.” 

“ A message from Jara ?” 

“Aye, brother. She bids you be in the shadow 
of the pyramid at nine to-night.” 

“For what reason ?” 

“ I know not, rye. It may have to do with your 
journey here, or with the treasures of Egypt stored 
in yonder pyramid, or it may be,” finished Goliath, 
significantly, “ that she would speak of your mar- 
riage.” 

“ You mean that Mrs. Ingraham — ” 

“ No,” interrupted the gypsy, decisively ; “I mean 
nothing. What Jara knows she tells to-night. I 
think much, but speak little. Still, brother, I am 


THE PYRAMID 


81 


sure that all will be well with you and yours. Go 
to the pyramid, my brother, and see what fate has 
in store for you.” 

This invitation, pregnant with mystery, put all 
thought of Pepa 'and her wiles out of the English- 
man’s head. Convinced that Jara had not yet re- 
vealed her real reason for inveigling him hither, he 
hailed with joy an opportunity which promised to 
bring the matter to an issue. He was quite resolved 
that this meeting should end in more than empty 
words. The hatred of Pepa, the indirect allusions to 
Mrs. Ingraham, the profundities of Jara, such hint- 
ings greatly roused his curiosity. For his own satis- 
faction he wished these recondite matters explained, 
and on the quality of the explanation would depend 
the duration of his stay in the valley. 

Long before the appointed hour he wandered 
round the pyramid, in the vain hope that Jara, 
sharing his impatience, might present herself early. 
She did not put in an appearance, however, and the 
gypsies being safely bestowed in their caves, no 
human being, save himself, enlivened the spectral 
solitude. Long afterwards did Challice remember 
that eyrie vigil so fraught with hopes and fears of 
an uncertain future. 

The moon was up, but not yet over the surround- 
ing peaks, so that the gorge was yet filled with dark- 
ness. Overhead the hollow sky emitted a wan light, 
0 


82 


THE NAMELESS CITY 


which glinted on pyramid and water-fall. This lat- 
ter, sweeping downward with hoarse roaring, 
plunged smoothly into abysmal depths. From 
where the main avenue terminated, Challice noted 
the adumbration of the pyramid against the falling 
veil of foam. A searching wind swept from the 
arid heights. The sobbing breeze, the muffled 
water-fall, glimmering sky and monstrosity of rock 
and pyramid, all these conjunctively struck a chill 
into his heart. Oh ! for the blaze of a fire, for the 
sound of a voice, the echo of a foot-fall to tenant 
the loneliness with other than shadows, but nothing 
•of earth disturbed the savagery of the scene, and it 
remained lamentable, desolate, unhuman. 

‘‘Is it thee, my son?” croaked Jara, emerging a 
shadow from the shadow. Challice faced round 
with an involuntary cry. His nerves, shaken by 
night and solitude, were scarcely under control. 
The apparition of this red-cloaked hag, weary with 
aid, compelled the momentary weakness. The next 
moment, with swift recovery, he was saluting her 
eagerly. For him she was the messenger of Fate, 
perchance, the goddess herself. 

“ I came hither as you wished, mother,” said he. 

“ Aye, child. I have many things to say on af- 
fairs of Egypt.” 

“I should like to know a little about my own 
affairs also,” retorted Challice, dryly. “ For instance^ 


THE PYRAMID 


83 


the reason of Pepa’s hatred of me, and why you 
brought me hither.” 

“ All shall be told thee, child,” said J ara, patting 
his hand ; “ not for folly did I send the jade eya 
No, no ! Of Pepa you shall be told many thinga 
Touching affairs of Egypt, you must listen. Son 
of my son’s son you are, and all our secrets I shall 
reveal. Come hither, child, and view the treasure 
of the Eommany.” 

Without waiting for an answer she hobbled pain- 
fully into the shadow of the pyramid, passed through 
it, beyond it, and paused on the opposite side. Here 
the moon, brimming the hollow with light, spar- 
kled on the sloping triangle of black basalt. Their 
figures, grotesque and misshapen, were thrown 
strongly on this luminous foreground. Jara point- 
ed with her staff to strange runes deeply graven on 
the stone. 

“A spell, my son,” said she; “the words of our 
fathers graven in the signs they brought thither 
from the East.” 

“ They look like Sanskrit,” remarked Challice, 
recognizing the characters. 

“Aye! It was the tongue of our fathers when 
they dwelt in walled cities. But that was long 
since. Now the Eommany wander in many lands. 
Of these things, child, we can talk further — mean- 
time, the treasure. See, son of my son’s son, I press 


84 


THE NAMELESS CITY 


hard with my stafiE on this sign— the stone swings, 
and the dark way is revealed.” 

With a vigor of which Challice could scarcely 
have believed her frail arm capable, she forced the 
staff’s point into the convolutions of a letter. As 
she said, the stone yielded, and swinging smoothly 
round on a central pivot, revealed a flight of steps 
inclining downward to deepest gloom. 

“ This torch,” said Jara, producing one from under 
her cloak, ‘‘will lighten our steps.” 

Amid the smoke and ruddy glare she stepped into 
the darkness, followed by Challice. Descending the 
staircase for some little distance they turned to the 
left, and almost immediately entered what was ap- 
parently a large hall. At the entrance two branch- 
ing candelabra of bronze bore many lamps, and to 
these the old woman pointed. 

“ Light them and wait,” said she, briefly, and dis- 
appeared into the farther gloom. Without remark 
Challice obeyed her instructions and summed up the 
scene, revealed by such illumination, in two words. 

, “ Aladdin’s cave,” said he, and the term was apt. 

No decorative art had been employed in the con- 
struction of this subterranean vault. It was simply 
a large hole quarried out of the rocky ground, and 
roofed by the quadrilateral slantings of the pyramid. 
At the apex a round hole admitted air and the 
Steady spark of the pole star. Lamps and torch 


THE PYRAMID 


85 


served rather to show than to dispel the darkness, 
so that from his position Challice could not see the 
end of the vault. Nevertheless, within his imme- 
diate neighborhood lie noted the rough walls were 
honeycombed with niches, and in these rested the 
treasures of Egypt. 

Cross and pyx, silver images and eucharistic ves- 
sels. On these the Rommany had laid sacrilegious 
hands, and here, mere useless lumber, they tarnished 
through the ages. Jewels glittered in golden cir- 
clets, flashed in the pommels of swords, or, torn 
from their settings, lay here and there in glittering 
heaps. In one recess were stored flagons, dishes, and 
battered goblets of gold. Chains of strange device, 
scabbards incrusted with gems, salvers, rings, brace- 
lets, jewelled belts, and gilded armors. Treasures 
of east and west were here collected, at Heaven 
only knows what cost of rapine and murder. 
Adornments of generations, cherished possessions of 
wealthy families, sacred utensils of altar and shrine, 
were all shut up in the womb of the valley, useless 
to the world as to the gypsies who thieved them. 
Attracted like magpies by the glitter, they had 
stolen and hidden these splendors for the mere 
pleasure of possession. Challice wondered what 
delight they could take in such, to them, useless 
gauds. 

“The treasures of Egypt — the treasures of Egypt,” 


86 


THE NAMELESS CITY 


piped the old woman, suddenly appearing at his 
elbow. 

“ Do you make use of them T 
No, child. What care the Rommany for such 
things ? Collected from all lands, in all ages, they 
lie here despised and forgotten. Aye, aye !” she 
added, darting her quick glance at the discolored 
ornaments, “ many crimes have been committed for 
the sake of these. Our brethren stole them from 
blazing house and ruined city. Out of the earth 
they came ; in the earth they are, and the dust lies 
over all.” 

A sermon on the vanity of wealth,” moralized 
Challice, ironically. “ But if you despise and have 
no use for them, why keep them here?” 

‘‘Who knows but what we may one day require 
them, child. Truly the persecutions of the black 
ages are gone, but it may be that in time the Rom- 
many fall again under the ban. By the gift of 
these to king and prince we may gain protection for 
our race. To this end do I hold these treasures 
here, else long since would they have been dispersed. 
No one sees them but Jara, and she cares naught for 
such vanities.” 

“ If the gypsies anticipate persecution, I wonder 
they do not band together for protection. Unity, 
they say, is strength.” 

“ It may not be, child. A wandering race we are, 


THE PYRAMID 


87 


and what is in the blood must out. Would the stag 
forsake the wilds for fenced pastures? or the wolf 
submit to the chain of the house-dog ? As the Gales 
were created so they must be. Said the high lord 
to the gorgio, ‘ Sit at your gates and be at rest but 
to the Rommany did he say, ‘Roam,’ and therefore 
do we wander.’' 

“If that is gypsy philosophy, this city is out of 
keeping.” 

“Nay, child; there is a centre to all things. 
Truly, the Rommany dwell not in walled towns 
and call no man lord. But this city was founded of 
old by our fathers as a refuge from persecution, and 
here dwell I, Queen of the Gales, keeping watch 
over the destinies of my wandering children. It is 
not a home, child, for none dwell here ; but it is the 
centre of gypsydom — the nameless city, whose name 
none may know save the Queen of the Gales.” 

“It is always a woman who rules here?” 

“ Always a woman,” repeated Jara, nodding her 
head. “No man lords it over the Rommany. The 
wit of woman sways Rommany destinies. Sit ye 
down, child, and hearken to the story of our 
race.” 

On a fragment of rock Ghallice took his seat, and 
bent curious eyes on the sibyl. She, frail with age 
yet strong in spirit, still remained standing, and 
spoke slowly, with her chin resting on her tall staff. 


88 


THE NAMELESS CITY 


In that dreary vault, under the faint radiance of 
lamps, amid the wreckage of past ages, he gave ear 
to her speech. Truly the most fanciful of his 
dreams had never included such fantasy as this. 

“ Our fathers came from the far East,’’ said she ; 
‘‘aye, from Hindostan, the cradle of all things. 
Thither they fled from Tamerlane, Lord of Samar- 
cand (may his soul And no rest !), who would have 
blotted out our race. But in those days arose a 
woman who spoke bravely to the persecuted. ‘ Let 
us go hence,’ said she; ‘go hence, to wander by 
Western seas. Holding no city, possessing no treas- 
ure, ruling no land, none will care to harm us. We 
will but ask to live as the bears, the sky our house- 
roof, the earth our heritage, and the sons of our sons’ 
sons shall follow the ways of their fathers.’ So she 
spoke, and so it was done. From Hindostan went 
forth our hordes, and she, the wise one, was leader of 
the host. To Europe they came, and, alas I of sor- 
cery and theft and hokano laro were they accused. 
It was another woman, my pretty one, who founded 
this city of refuge. ‘ When the King’s hand lies 
heavy on the Rommany,’ said she, ‘ let them fly hith- 
er.’ And truly they came hither in the black ages. 
For many hundreds of years have our people homed 
to this solitude, and we look on it as the refuge of 
our race. Now the Rommany are under no ban, 
and go whither they choose. Rarely do they come 


THE PYRAMID 


89 


here save once in a lifetime, but the city remains, 
and the queen.” 

Always a queen 

“ Aye, my son. As the wit of woman twice saved 
the Kommany from extinction, so have they elected 
to be governed by the sex. Moreover, in a greater 
measure than the male is the female skilled in fore- 
telling the future; therefore do the Gales rely on 
the ruling of queens.” 

“ But, surely, you do not believe in such supersti- 
tions?” 

“ Why not, child ? I have seen strange things in 
the stars, and there is a life beyond which rules our 
lives on earth.” 

“ Do you, then, believe in the immortality of the 
soul ?” 

“ The rose grows in many gardens, but it is al- 
ways a rose,” said she. “ A soul each being pos- 
sesses — it cast off the flesh of a previous existence, 
and housed itself in the flesh of earth. In the future 
it will again strip such skin and clothe itself in an- 
other. The body dies, but not the soul.” 

“That is the Hindoo doctrine of transmigra- 
tion.” 

“ Aye, child, our fathers came from Hindostan.” 

“ Goliath believes in annihilation.” 

“ It is true, and so do many of our race. They 
are foolish ; but I am wise, son, and have ruled the 


90 


THE NAMELESS CITY 


Gales nigh a hundred years. I know many things 
of which my children are ignorant.” 

“ Do you know who will succeed you as queen ?” 
asked Challice, anxious to test her prophetic powers. 

It is of that I wish to speak,” said the old wom- 
an. “ Pepa (may the evil Moors seize her !) would be 
queen. But she is not of my blood, and of my 
blood would I have the rulers of the Gales.” 

“But you have no daughter?” 

“No, child. You are the sole one of my blood, 
and it is your romi I would make Mother of the 
Koramany — she queen, you Pharaoh — and through 
your children shall one of my blood yet rule the 
Gales.” 

“ But I have no wife,” objected Challice. 

“Is it not in your mind to marry, child?” 

“Yes; but I don’t know if I can marry the wom- 
an I love till next June. And that reminds me,” 
said he, breaking off, “ that your letter spoke of some 
information to be revealed relative to my meeting 
with Mrs. Ingraham in June.” 

“Aye, son, I wish your romi to rule the Gales, and 
to tell you this I brought you hither. You are the 
son of my son’s son, and only to your romi will I 
reveal the name of the city.” 

“ What has that to do with it ?” 

“ Child,” said Jara, solemnly, “ when this city of 
refuge was founded by the wise mother she gave it 


THE PYRAMID 


91 


a name which was known but to herself. When she 
died, to her successor did she reveal it, and in time 
the name was told to me, who am now queen. The 
name must not be spoke, else would the city be de- 
stroyed.” 

“ I have heard of a similar superstition in regard 
to Rome. No one, to this day, knows the true name 
of Rome.” 

“ Aye ! Nor will any one, save your romi, know 
the name of our city. She who knows the name,” 
added Jara, with energy, “becomes Queen . of the 
Gales. Bring hither your romi, child, and by telling 
her the name shall I make her queen when I am 
dead and gone.” 

“ Ah !” cried Challice, a train of thought suggest- 
ing itself by this last remark, “now I see why Pepa 
wishes to marry me.” 

“She wants to become your romi and queen. It 
is known that to your wife only shall I reveal the 
name, and so Pepa schemes for your love.” 

“But Jativo ?” 

“ Child, is there not poison and steel and lead ? 
Jativo shall die by her desire so that she becomes 
your romi and queen.” 

“I wouldn’t marry her if there wasn’t another 
woman in the world,” said Challice, with considera- 
ble energy. “ Why, she tried to have me murdered 
— not once, but twice.” 


. 92 


THE NAMELESS CITY 


“It is so/’ assented Jara. “Knowing 1 sent for 
you, she wished to slay you, so as to frustrate 
my plans. At the inn, on the road, she tried and 
failed. Kow she thinks it better to gain her ends 
by becoming your wife. Beware of her charms, 
child.” 

Challice laughed consciously. Too well he rec- 
ognized how nearly he had fallen a victim to the 
arts of Pepa. Like the sirens of classic fable, she 
charmed but to destroy. 

“Pepa’s fascinations will have no effect on me,” 
he said, a trifle boastfully. “ I have a safeguard 
against them in the love I bear Mrs. Ingraham. 
But,” added he, foreseeing an obstacle, “ if I marry 
one who is not a Bommany, how then ?” 

“ You will not marry a Gentile.” 

“ If Mrs. Ingraham is a Gentile I shall certainly 
marry her,” retorted Challice, with some heat. 

“ Ko, my son. If the rani is not a gypsy you will 
not wed her.” 

It seemed to Challice as though Jara was but 
playing with words, for she evidently knew more 
than she chose to confess. 

“ Do you know anything of Mrs. Ingraham ?” said 
he. 

“ Much,” she answered, calmly ; “ but there is one 
who knows more.” 

“ And that one?” 


THE PYRAMID 


93 


A voice from the darkness answered his ques- 
tion : 

“Is I!” 

Challice looked up, and saw a smile on the face of 
Mrs. Ingraham. ^ 


CHAPTER VII 


^ • ISAIA 

• 

“ You see there is nothing certain but the unfore- 
seen,” said Mrs. Ingraham, advancing to greet him 
with out-stretched hands. He was too astonished to 
take the initiative. 

‘‘Unforeseen certainly,” assented Challice, “but 
scarcely unexpected. Oh, yes,” he added, noticing an 
amused smile on her face, “ I rather suspected that 
you had something to do with these mysteries. The 
information contained in Jara’s letter anent our 
meeting could only have come from you. More- 
over, you spoke, to Goliath in Kommany, and I rec- 
ognized the beggar in the guide when I arrived at 
JPalma. These things,” concluded the young man, 
“ are not due to chance.” 

“ You reason well, Mr. Challice.” 

“ Mr. Challice ?” 

“If it please you I will say Lancelot, but,” she 
continued, lifting a finger playfully, “it does not 
commit me to anything.” 

“ Hot to marriage ?” 

Mrs. Ingraham glanced at the immovable Jara^ 
and shook her head, 


ISAIA 


95 


“I am not to answer that question till June/’ she 
said, evasively. 

But, Mrs. Ingraham — ” 

“ As we are brother and sister, Lancelot, you may 
call me Isaia.” 

‘‘Brother and sister!” repeated Challice, falling 
back a step, the better to read her face. This dec- 
laration of relationship rather shook his nerve. 

“ Aye, child,” said Jara, answering for the younger 
woman ; “ she is of Bommany blood. Said I not you 
would wed with your own kin 

“ This is the most wonderful thing of all,” mar- 
velled Challice, divining further mysteries. “ You 
are a Eommany lady !” 

“ Yes, brother,” said she, mischievously ; “ a gypsy 
wench, born in a tent, cradled in a caravan, and now 
dwelling as a Gentile among Gentiles.” 

The astonished Challice looked at her in silence, 
and recognized in a hundred subtle ways the truth 
of this assertion. From gypsy blood came that Ori- 
ental coloring which had heretofore led him to call 
her Cleopatra. Oval face, bluish -black hair, and 
olive complexion, such features might pass her off 
as an Italian, but the eyes were distinctly Kommany. 
Large, dark, and languishing, they had yet that film 
over them which betrayed her kinship with the 
Cales. Also there were other noticeable points. 
The imperial carriage^ the free, swinging gait, and 


96 


THE NAMELESS CITY 


the un tameable haughtiness of bearing, one and all 
marked characteristics of a scarce civilized race. 
Now he knew the truth it was a matter of wonder- 
ment to him that he had not guessed it before. 

Yes,” said he, concluding a rapid examination ; 
‘‘ you are a gypsy.” 

“And yet,” observed Mrs. Ingraham, glancing 
down at her gray travelling dress, “ I am not garbed 
as one.” 

“ I go by the face. Pepa’s skirts of red and 
Pepa’s golden sequins could not make you more 
of a Gitana.” 

“ Pepa ! My rival !” 

“ There you are mistaken,” said her lover, redden- 
ing for a moment. “ I admired Pepa’s beauty, but 
my heart has always been true to you.” 

Mrs. Ingraham, with indulgent smiles, took him 
by the hand. 

“Do not defend yourself,” said she, looking into 
his eyes. “I heard your conversation with Jara. 
And now,” she added, in a more lively tone, “ as 
these mysteries are ended, let us leave this vault.” 

“Not yet. I wish to hear your story. With 
yourself as heroine, it is certain to be most inter- 
esting.” 

“But Jara!” 

“Oh, Jara is well enough,” said Challice, forget- 
ting manners in his eagerness to hear her speak. 


ISAIA 


97 


Jara looked up with an ironical smile on her with- 
ered face. “Aye, aye!” said she, “the old must 
ever give place to the young. Jara was everything 
yesterday — she is nothing to-day.” 

“ Pardon me, mother,” said Challice, touching her 
shoulder, penitently; “it is selfish of me to speak 
so.” 

“]^ay, child. I blame you not that you are 
human. Youth to youth, and age to age; speak 
with Isaia if you so choose. I can wait your 
pleasure.” 

After this not unkindly speech the old woman re- 
lapsed into silence. Challice turned with manifest 
relief from her gnarled uncomeliness to contemplate 
the charms of his beloved. It was, as he said, 
“ selfish,” but then be was in love, and in the pres- 
ence of the one incomparable woman, so all lesser 
considerations merged in the greater. Mrs. Ingra- 
ham looked at him smilingly from her seat on the 
rock he had vacated. Intoxicated by her fresh 
beauty, he threw himself on his knees, and covered 
her hands with kisses. Startled, not unpleasantly, 
by the ardor of his passion, she strove to draw them 
away. 

“']^o !” said she, warning him for the second time ; 
“ my meeting you here does not commit me to any 
definite promise.” 

“ But you will marry me ?” 

7 


98 


THE NAMELBSS CITY 


‘‘It is not yet the second Sunday in June, nor is 
this Hyde Park.’’ 

The speech chilled him, and with a gesture of an- 
noyance he relinquished her hands. 

“You are bent on breaking my heart,” he de- 
clared, ill-temperedly. 

True woman as she was, this gust of anger pleased 
her more than the caress. Having aroused his 
wrath she proceeded to quieten it with sweet 
speeches. 

“You are a most exacting lover,” she said, look- 
ing at him chin on hand. “ I take a long journey 
to these wilds for your benefit, I meet you here with 
no chaperon save old Jara, and yet you talk of break- 
ing your heart. What further concessions can I 
make to prove that I love you ?” 

“Marry me.” 

“How you are in extremes. Between this and 
that are intermediate stages. You would not have 
me fall like a ripe fruit at the first touch. Be- 
sides,” she added, ironically, “it is not the custom 
of women to concede all in a moment.” 

“But how long is this state of uncertainty to 
last?” 

“ I have already told you more times than I care 
to count,” replied Mrs. Ingraham, impatiently, “ that 
you must wait till the second Sunday in June. On 
that day I shall be able to say whether I will marry 


ISAIA 


99 


you or not. No more protestations,” she added, 
with a slight frown. ‘^Let me tell you my story, 
and you shall see that I have reasons for what I 
have no doubt you call my caprice.” 

“ I won’t say another word,” said Challice, obedi- 
ently. “No doubt your story will tell me all I wish 
to know.” 

“ I am afraid not. However, you can take what 
information you choose out of it, and possess your 
soul in patience till the expiration of your proba- 
tion.” 

Mindful of his promise Challice uttered no word, 
but looked at her with eloquent eyes. With femi- 
nine inconsistency, such obedience rather displeased 
than contented her, and she waited to hear him 
speak. Guessing her intent he held his peace, and 
with pretended vexation she was forced to begin her 
story. Before it ended, she triumphed over his reti- 
cence, for twice, thrice, and it may be more times, 
he interrupted the narrative with questions and 
comments. 

“If London society,” she began, folding her hands 
— “ if London society knew the genealogy of the rich 
Mrs. Ingraham, I regret to say it would be greatly 
shocked. Fortunately, I have baffled the numerous 
inquiries as to my pedigree, and now society is con- 
tent to receive me as the widow of the millionaire, 
Samuel Ingraham. What a commotion it would 


100 


THE NAMELESS CITY 


cause if society knew I am a pure-blooded gypsy, 
with Isaia Stanley for a name, a fortune-teller for a 
mother, and a tinker for a father.” 

A tinker !” 

“ Ah, I see you are shocked already,” she observed, 
severely. There is more gorgio than Rommany 
about you.” 

“ But you don’t look in the least like a tinker’s 
daughter,” he protested. 

‘‘Education, my friend, nothing more. You will 
wonder less when you hear all. My father was a 
tinker and a bruiser.” 

“ A prize-fighter 1” 

“Yes; in the days when the ring was more 
thought of than now. He tinkered for a livelihood, 
and fought for a pastime. 1 was born in a tent on 
a Berkshire common, and I have no doubt my 
mother stole my swaddling-clothes.” 

“ Oh no ! Do not tell me these horrible details. 
You are exaggerating.” 

“Indeed, I am not. My parents, of the ordinary 
gypsy class, were not troubled with too much hon- 
esty. Pray do not look so horrified, Lancelot; I 
assure you the taint is not in my blood. I am a 
Rommany, but not a thief, though, to be sure, your 
horror is a mere Gentile prejudice.” 

“ Do you uphold thieving ?” 

“Ho! I don’t go so far as that, but you know 


ISAIA 


101 


cheating the Busnee is a predilection of the gypsies. 
It is really not much worse than swindling on the 
Stock Exchange. In fact, I think it is more respect- 
able.” 

The declaration of such doubtful ethics, though 
productive of laughter, produced no answer from 
Ohallice, nor did Mrs. Ingraham wait for one, but 
almost without pausing resumed her speech. 

“ I need not tell you of my early life, and, in fact, 
remember very little about it. At the age of three 
years my father matched himself in the ring against 
Ben of Windsor. They fought without the gloves, 
and poor Silvanus Stanley received such a thrashing 
that he died of his injuries within the week. My 
mother supported herself after his death by fortune- 
telling, and perished one winter while trying to cross 
a common in a snow-storm.” 

“ And you ?” asked Challice, breathlessly. 

“I was with her,” replied Mrs. Ingraham, quickly. 
“ She wrapped me up in her rags, poor soul, and 
herself died of the exposure. Almost frozen my- 
self, I was found next day by no less a person than 
Mr. Ingraham. He, as you know, was a great philan- 
thropist, and finding me a starving gypsy waif on 
that common, charged himself with my future life.” 

A good man !” 

“ A very good man,” said she, emphatically. “ Few 
men are so honest and good as he was. There is noth- 


102 


THE NAMELESS CITY 


ing but gratitude in uiy heart towards him. I de- 
clare,” she continued, with great fervor, ‘‘that I 
owe it to his memory to continue my widowhood.” 

“ Is that the obstacle ?” demanded Challice, 
sharply. 

“No, sir, it is not. Far from wishing me to re- 
main single, he urged me on his death-bed to marry 
again. Unfortunately I met no one I cared for un- 
til,” she added, smilingly, “one Lancelot Challice 
took my fancy by his persistence.” 

“ Isaia ! Does that mean — ” 

“ It means nothing at present,” interrupted the 
lady, vivaciously. “ Let me continue my story. As 
I said, Mr. Ingraham took charge of me after the 
death of my poor mother. He sent me to school, 
had me thoroughly well educated, and when I came 
of age married me.” 

“And you loved him,” hinted her lover, jealously. 

“No, said Mrs. Ingraham, pensively, “I did not 
love, but I admired and respected him. I trust I 
made him a good wife; but, alas! he died within a 
year of the marriage.” 

“ After which ?” 

“After which there is nothing more to tell. I 
roamed about the world and met you in divers 
places. That is the end of my story, Lancelot, and 
that is how Isaia Stanley, the gypsy, became Mrs. 
Ingraham.” 


ISAIA 


103 


“ What did your own people say to this 

“ Oh, they were rather pleased than otherwise. 
They well knew that however much of a great lady 
I became I would never forget that I was a gentle 
Eommany ; and they were right, my friend. The 
leaven of gypsydom is strong within me.” 

“ And hence the secret of your wandering !” 

Mrs. Ingraham threw back her head with a long- 
drawn breath. 

‘‘ I sicken of civilization at times,” said she ; “ the 
atmosphere of London society is stifling. I must 
wander into solitary places, sleep under the open 
sky, and breathe the free forest breeze. You also 
feel this longing, do you not ?” she questioned, eager- 
ly ; “this nostalgia of the wilds for road and tent?” 

“ I understand the feeling well, Isaia. Like your- 
self, I have a predilection for savagery.” 

“Ah! that is the Eommany drop in your veins. 
Yet ril wager you take more kindly to the Gentiles 
than I, though, to be sure, it is but natural, as I am 
a pure-blooded gypsy, and you but half a one.” 

“ Still, that half is royal,” said Challice, slyly. 

“ Hail to Pharaoh,” mocked Mrs. Ingraham ; “ but, 
indeed, we are wasting time in talking of such things. 
Do you not wish to know how I had you brought 
here ?” 

“I thought Jara did that.” 

“ She was the doer, I the inspirer.” 


104 


THE NAMELESS CITY 


“ As how 

“For you to understand all/’ explained the lady, 
“ we must take our thoughts back to Damascus — 
there, as you know, I refused to become your wife. 
My reason you can now guess. I knew not you had 
gypsy blood in your veins, and was resolved to marry 
no one but a Rommany Chal.” 

“ Then how did you discover I was half a gypsy, 
for I did not know it myself ?” 

“I learned that much from Jara. When I saw 
you again in England I asked you to wait a year for 
an answer, resolved in the mean time to consult with 
the Mother of the Gales as to the advisability of my 
wedding a second time with a gorgio. I came hither, 
laid my difficulties before her, and found, to my sur- 
prise, that you were her great-grandson, and half a 
Rommany. Of course that removed all difficulties.” 

“ It seems not,” said Challice, dryly, “ for you still 
refuse to marry me.” 

“H’rn! I don’t say ‘yes;’ I don’t say ‘no!’ I but 
tell you to wait. But, to resume my explanation, 
Jara had always intended to send for you and reveal 
your Rommany ancestry. My story decided her, and 
she wrote, as you saw. You obeyed the summons, 
met Goliath at Palma, and the rest you know.” 

“Most of it, but I don’t know why you concealed 
yourself in this pyramid instead of meeting me on 
my arrival.” 


ISAIA 


105 


“ Oh I’’ said Mrs. Ingraham, coolly, you are quite 
wrong. I left Egypt some time ago, and only re- 
turned to-day. As to being in this vault, I deemed 
our meeting safer here, knowing Pepa’s malignancy. 
I have no desire to end my days by knife or poison.” 

“ There is no fear of that. I don’t love Pepa.” 

‘‘Nor does Pepa love you. All the same, she in- 
tends to marry you and become Queen of the 
Gales.” 

“ Jara has something to say to that. She detests 
Pepa.” 

“ So do I,” said she, emphatically ; “ so does every 
one. An evil -hearted woman’ Woe to the Rom- 
many should she become mother of our race. But 
it cannot be, unless,” she added, significantly, “you 
marry her.” 

“ Is it likely I would do so ?” demanded Challice, 
in an injured tone. “But if you fear lest I should 
succumb to her fascinations why not marry me at 
once ?” 

“No! As I told you, I have my reasons. Next 
June, my friend. Meantime, we can stay here a 
few days before returning to England.” 

“Is there any necessity to stay?” said he, rising 
reluctantly. “Now that I know all, I wish to 
leave.” 

“ Not yet,” interposed Jara, at this moment ; “ you 
must wait, my son — you also, my daughter. Within 


106 


THE NAMELESS CITY 


a week I liold a festival. Far and wide will the 
Rominan}^ flock hither at my summons. Then 
shall I proclaim the son of my son’s son, Pharaoh, 
and you, Isaia, the Queen of Gales.” 

Mrs. Ingraham looked at her lover with some 
embarrassment. 

“ You cannot tell me the name of the city till I 
wed with Lancelot,” said she, in a low voice, “ and 
that I cannot do till after June.” 

“ Then or now, it matters not. Have I not read 
his hand and your hand ? Your fates are joined. 
Pom and romi shall you become, and at the festi- 
val I tell you the name of Egypt.” 

“ But Pepa ?” 

“ Pepa shall never become queen. Listen, Isaia, 
and you also, my son. The sacred name must be 
told to the future mother alone, therefore I dare not 
speak it now. But hearken, children. I dread the 
evil heart of Pepa. It may be that I die of drao. 
If that should be it is well that you know the name, 
lest Pepa become queen despite of all. See, then, 
my daughter,” added she, pointing upward, ‘‘the 
topmost stone of this pyramid bears the name <jut in 
strange signs on the under part. Should I die by 
the evil arts of Pepa, and she proclaims herself 
Mother of the Gales, say then, ‘ It is not lawful ! for 
none but she who knows the sacred name can rule.’ 
Then will they say to thee, ‘ Tell the name to the 


ISAIA 


107 


appointed three.’ In that case, child, climb upward 
and read the name written on the stone. Keveal it 
to the appointed three who question, as is our cus- 
tom. Then will they make thee queen, and drive 
forth the evil Fepa. I have spoken, children. See 
that I be obeyed.” 

Without further speech she hobbled up the stairs. 
Mrs. Ingraham motioned to Challice to extinguish 
the lamp, which he did in silence, and they then 
followed the old woman. Outside all was still and 
gloomy. Jara had disappeared, and it was Mrs. 
Ingraham who replaced the stone at the entrance. 
Having accomplished this task, she turned towards 
Challice and held out her hand. 

‘‘ Good-night, brother,” said she. 

“Must we part here Isaia? Can I not see you 
home ?” 

“ Home to ray cave !” she remarked, laughing. 
“ How terribly primeval it sounds. I live with 
Jara in the Cavern of the Idols.” 

“ Horrible I Those nightmare images.” 

“ I do not mind them in the least, Lancelot. My 
nerves are excellent. Also, I have more important 
things to think over.” 

“ How to become Queen of the Cales.” 

“No!” she replied, shuddering. “I could not 
bear to dwell forever in this treeless valley. If I 
do become Mother of the Eommany, I shall cer- 


108 


THE NAMELESS CITY 


tainly abdicate in favor of some one more desirous 
of the dignity.” 

“ Pepa, for instance ?” 

“No ! Pepa would bring woe to the Rommany. 
She must not become queen. In some manner we 
must contrive to circumvent her.” 

“ I think that will be easy,” said Ch all ice, reflect- 
ively. “ If we don’t know the sacred name, we at 
least know where to find it. The top stone of — ” 

“ Hush !” whispered Mrs. Ingraham, placing her 
hand over his mouth. “ Are you mad ? Did Pepa 
know that she would become queen, and then 
neither you nor I would leave this valley alive. She 
may be near us even now. It is as well that we part. 
Good-night — good-bye.” 

“ When shall I see you again ?” cried Challice 
after the flying figure. 

“ Noon to-morrow,” floated back faintly; and with 
this vague promise he 'was forced to be content. 


CHAPTER VIII 


THE LORD OF THE HORSESHOE 

Twice or thrice he remarked on the strangeness of 
meeting with Mrs. Ingraham amid such unfamiliar 
surroundings. Despite lier latent primevalism, she 
was too civilized for the valley, and he also. Envi- 
roned by an air of modernity, they were, in this posi- 
tion, anachronistic. Their attire struck a false note 
which displaced them from the harmony of cave and 
pyramid and bleak ravine. Nothing was so ironic as 
his gray suit and her smart travelling dress against 
the solemn background of this desolation. Summer 
flowers with winter snows were less irreconcilable. 

Such isolation drew them together. Detached 
from gypsydom by superiority of education and up- 
bringing, they sought in one another that necessary 
culture of mind undiscoverable elsewhere. Con- 
demned to so narrow a groove, the one and the 
other, by stress of repetition, became well acquainted 
with their several idiosyncrasies. Other than mar- 
riage, no position was so favorable to analysis ; there- 
fore he and she learned rapidly the essentialities of 
one another’s character. 


110 THE NAMELESS CITY 

Mrs. Ingraham found that the acts of Challice fell 
short of his ideals, jet these latter kept him on a 
sufficiently high basis for her to regard him as a 
man of sterling worth. He noted that her perfec- 
tions were marred by a masterful spirit, and judged 
that as a wife she would be disinclined to yield 
obedience to her husband. Nevertheless, he hoped 
that this Amazonian quality might be neutralized 
by her frankly -avowed love. That two conflicting 
egotisms should unite in immediate harmony was 
scarce to be expected ; yet, seeing by this compan- 
ionship the faults and virtues of each other, they 
trusted by mutual yielding to make an ideal mar- 
riage. The materials were sufficiently promising to 
justify such a belief. 

In obedience to the express wish of Jara, they 
remained in that dreary valley. The festival was 
appointed for the fifth day of the week, and after its 
consummation they intended to return to civiliza- 
tion. To this they looked forward eagerly, as, not- 
withstanding their gypsy blood, they could not 
assimilate themselves to the savagery of the place. 
There was nothing generous about that cleft — no 
kindly touch of nature, no softening of rugged rock 
or of gloomy cavern — only the aridity sweltering 
under the hot sun, or chilling in the moon -beams, 
with ever the voice of *the water-fall continuously 
hoarse. 


THE LORD OF THE HORSESHOE 


111 


Yet the humanities were present. With the in- 
road of gypsies came loves and hates and merriments. 
A tide of healthy life ebbed and flowed herein to 
freshen the nightmare atmosphere, else it would have 
been scarce endurable. At times, also, the Rommany 
gathered round the pyramid for dance and song and 
interchange of news. The gay dresses of men, wom- 
en, and children lightened the sombre environments, 
and their laughter rang cheerfully through the men- 
acing thunder of the torrent. In the moonlight they 
lighted fires against the broad-based pyramid, and, 
dancing round them with laughter and song, human- 
ized in some degree the eyrie gorge. 

Thither came Mrs. Ingraham with her lover, and 
oftentimes were they watched by the jealous eyes of 
Pepa. She, hovering on the outskirts of the throng, 
took no part in the merrymaking, but with stealthy 
and malignant glances noted the lovers. While Mrs. 
Ingraham was present she made no attempt to attract 
the attention of Challice, and had apparently aban- 
doned all hope of fascinating the young Englishman. 
Yet to his eyes there was something ominous in that 
flitting figure, and he dreaded lest she should strike 
at himself through Mrs. Ingraham. An expression 
of these presentiments was received by the latter with 
ill-concealed disdain. Evidently she deemed Pepa 
harmless as rival and enemy. 

“Why should she wish to kill me?” demanded Mrs. 


112 


. THE NAMELESS CITY 


Ingraham. ‘‘Were I removed it would not help her 
to the queenship.” 

“ Are you so sure of that, Isaia ? She is a dan- 
gerous woman, whose heart is set on realizing her 
ambition,” 

“ She can only realize it by becoming your wife, 
and I don’t think my death would bring about the 
marriage.” 

“ Isaia,” said he, reproachfully, “ how can you 
speak so, even in jest ? My heart is yours only. Be- 
sides,” he added, briskly, “she has to consider Jativo.” 

“ She considers him an obstacle, no doubt,” replied 
Mrs. Ingraham, playing on the word, “still, one 
which may be got rid of. However, he is safe in 
his cavern, and cannot interfere with her schemes.” 

“ I should like to see him !” 

Mrs. Ingraham raised her eyebrows with manifest 
surprise. “For any special reason?” asked she. 

“ Only to satisfy myself as to whether he is a man 
likely to be put aside for the gratification of a 
woman’s ambition.” 

“Questionable,” remarked the lady, doubtfully. 
“I have not seen him myself, but, from his acts, 
should judge him to be the slave of his romi. Twice 
has he tried to kill you at her bidding. Why go up 
to his cavern and risk a third attempt ?” 

“ Oh, as to that, I have no fear. Pepa has long 
since abandoned that line of action. If she killed 


THE LOED OF THE HOESESHOE 


113 


me she would lose all; I am her stepping-stone, so 
to speak. But,” continued he, with much earnest- 
ness, “ I dread drao for you and Jativo.” 

“ She might attempt such a thing while believing 
there to be a prospect of your marrying her. If 
convinced to the contrary, the committal of the 
crime would be useless.” 

“ You think so ?” said Challice, thoughtfully. ‘‘ In 
that case, I shall go to Jativo, and place the matter 
beyond all doubt.” 

“ A delicate errand !” 

“ Oh, I can be diplomatic on occasions. It is not 
my intention to blurt out the truth like a school-boy. 
I go to observe and consider. The result of my 
visit will depend on what I notice.” 

“At least take Goliath with you,” was the part- 
ing remark of Mrs. Ingraham. Challice, not ill- 
pleased with her anxiety, took the advice, and forth- 
with sought the gypsy. 

Goliath was timing his stay in Egypt by that of 
Challice. In part, a personal liking for the young 
man determined this resolution. Also, what with 
the failing health of Jara, the intrigues of Pepa, and 
the significant presence of Mrs. Ingraham, great 
events were pending relative to the queenship. Af- 
fairs of Egypt were dear to Goliath, so zeal for their 
well-being demanded his presence and closest atten- 
tion. He disliked Pepa, and, bent on thwarting her 
8 


114 


THE NAMELESS CITY 


ambition, was vigilant in watching her every action. 
Conscious of this scrutiny, she hated the English 
Eommany, and but for his mistrust, which neutral- 
ized her craft, would speedily have freed herself 
from such espionage by poison or steel. So menaced, 
Goliath readily consented to visit Jativo, in the hope 
of checkmating his antagonist. A few significant 
words to the husband might render abortive the 
schemes of the wife. Jativo alone could control 
Pepa’s devilments, and would certainly countenance 
no actions likely to be hurtful to himself. 

‘‘ I shall come, brother,” said Goliath, when Chal- 
lice preferred his request. “It is as well to warn 
Jativo of Pepa’s designs.” 

“ To what end ? She is working for him as for 
herself.” 

“No, rye. Jara will reveal the name of the city 
to none but your romi, and how can Pepa becomes 
such while Jativo lives ?” 

“You forget another and more important obstacle 
— Mrs. Ingraham.” 

“ Pepa fears no woman, brother. When her rom 
dies, she will match her fascinations against those of 
the Eommany rani, and force you to love her.” 

“ You can bring a horse to the water, but who can 
make him drink?” said Challice, disdainfully. “I 
shall tell Pepa plainly that there is no hope of my 
marrying her.” 


THE LOKD OF THE HOESESHOE 


115 


“She will not believe you ! You are a mau, and 
Pepa a witch. Who can say ‘ No ’ when a woman 
WOOS? Pepa’s schemes are plain, brother. Jativo 
and the rani she will slay, and you she will marry. 
Jara will tell her the name, and Queen of the Gales 
she shall reign. Thou, brother,” added Goliath, 
darkly, “ shalt also die.” 

“ So she requires four victims to secure the gypsy 
throne,” said Challace, grimly. “A nice pro- 
gramme, truly, but the carrying out of which de- 
pends qn my doings. Well, we shall see if I yield 
to this siren. Come, Goliath, let us see Jativo !” 

“ His cave is yonder,” observed Goliath, pointing 
towards the water-fall. 

“That hole high up in the clifiE whence smoke 
issues ?” 

“Aye, brother. ’Tis the smoke of his forge, and 
at night flares redly. Follow me, rye, and I shall 
guide you hither.” 

“We climb the clifl?” 

“No, brother; through the cave and up the stair. 
Follow !” 

So saying, Goliath re-entered into their dwelling, 
and speedily emerged bearing a torch. Preceding 
Challice, he crossed the open space by the pyramid, 
and entered one of the houses on the opposite side. 
It was empty, as its old occupants had departed and 
the new had not yet arrived. Like all others, it was a 


116 


THE NAMELESS CITY 


mere frontage masking a gigantic burrow. Goliath 
lighted his torch, and penetrated with Challice into 
the cavern. After a time they left the level, and as- 
cended a rude staircase hewn out of the live rock. 
Here the ring of iron on iron became faintly audi- 
ble. 

“ Jativo works,” said Goliath, glancing back. 

‘‘And Pepa sings,” rejoined Challice, as a bird- 
like voice trilled, through the measured clang of 
hammer on anvil, 

% 

^'‘Fortune turns her wheel, 

I see thee passing hy ; 

Again she turns her wheel, 

I see thee dieF 

The words were Spanish, and understood by Chal- 
lice, who momentarily hung back at the ominous hint 
of Fate. 

“Absit omen!” quoth he, shuddering. 

The stairs ended at a moderate height, and, fol- 
lowing a diagonal passage, they emerged into a lofty 
cavern, which, but an enlargement of the gallery, 
ended abruptly in the face of the precipice. On one 
side tongues of flame darted roofward from the forge, 
and pungent smoke rolled sideways out of the cave. 
On the other, Jativo, swinging a mighty hammer, 
beat a glowing horseshoe into shape on the anvil. 
Red-skirted Pepa leaned against the bellows handle. 


THE LORD OF THE HORSESHOE 


117 


smiling at her busy rom, who occasionally glanced at 
her fresh beauty. Anvil, forge, and sooty atmos- 
phere, beautiful woman and grimy smith, were 
mythologically suggestive of Venus watching Vul- 
can. 

At their unexpected entrance Javito paused with 
uplifted hammer and uninviting scowl. Pepa, clap- 
ping her hands with gleeful laughter, was the first 
to speak. 

“ Pharaoh comes to see his slaves,” chanted she, 
derisively. “ Bow, my rom, at Pharaoh’s feet.” 

“ Evil be his end,” growled Jativo, crashing down 
on the horseshoe. 

“ Garishan !” said Goliath, taking no notice of the 
curse. Jativo, without lifting his eyes, muttered 
something in reply, and again Pepa addressed herself 
to Challice. 

“Why does Pharaoh come hither?” said she, with 
a mocking intonation of voice. 

“ I am not yet Pharaoh, sister.” 

“No I” muttered she, between her teeth, “nor shall 
you be Pharaoh !” 

“ I do not see how you can prevent it.” 

Pepa shrugged her shoulders, and at a nod from 
Jativo began working the bellows. With hoarse 
roaring the flames leaped from the black ashes and 
lighted the four faces. There was a venomous look 
in Pepa’s eyes, and Challice shrank back into the 


118 


THE NAMELESS CITY 


shadow. Goliath also saw the glance, and commented 
thereon. 

“ Peak-eyed witch,” said he, in Kommany. 

Ho, ho !” she laughed, spitefully. ‘‘ You call me 
witch. Aye, brother, witchly am I ! My spells can 
stay yon white -face from becoming Pharaoh. Pll 
steal the name by magic from Jara’s lips, and then 
be queen.” 

Jativo glanced approvingly at her, and returned 
to the anvil, but Challice questioned his gypsy 
friend. 

“ What does she say ?” 

“ Magical things, brother. She wants you not to 
be Pharaoh.” 

“ I know her amiable intentions in that respect. 
But in spite of her wish I shall be Pharaoh and 
Isaia queen.” 

He raised his voice so that Pepa could hear. 

‘‘That you shall never be,” said she, facing round, 
“ unless—” 

“ Unless I marry you !” 

“There is my rom,” retorted Pepa, and walked 
away with a contemptuous look. Jativo raised his 
head as she departed, and looked at Goliath. 

“ What wish you here, brother ?” he asked. 

“ To warn you,” interposed Challice. 

“A lie !” said Jativo, disdainfully. “ By bullet and 
steel did I try to slay you, and now you come hither 


THE LOED OF THE HOESESHOE 


119 


to warn me. Injured men do not such kindness. 
It is a lie I’’ 

“It is not a lie! If you are wise, listen,” said 
Challice. 

He cast a significant look at Pepa, which she rightly 
interpreted as harmful, and sprang forward to antici- 
pate his further speech. Jativo showed a disposition 
to hearken, and knowing that the first blow is half 
the battle, Pepa thrust herself furiously between the 
two men. 

“Ah! oh! ah!” said she, in shrill vituperation, 
“who is this coming ’twixt rom and romi? How I 
see, if my eyes deceive not. It is the English diadi- 
kai who would be Pharaoh. Well do I know what 
you would say, evil dog. That I would wed with 
you and become Mother of the Gales.” 

“Aye, sister, and rid yourself of Jativo by drao.” 

Pepa, with brazen assurance, snapped her fingers, 
and whirled round to face her husband. He, silent 
and suspicious, looked inquiringly at her. 

“ Hear you that, my rom ? I give you drao, my 
rom. What say you ?” 

Jativo pointed towards the mouth of the cave with 
a grim smile. 

“ Did I think so, Pepa, over there would you go. 
But it is foolishness, such talk. I am your lawful 
rom — you my romi. When I die you die. It is 
written,” 


120 


THE NAMELESS CITY 


For a moment Pepa winced at this savage answer. 
It was difficult to handle so surly a bear, but ex- 
perience had rendered the task easy. With one 
bound she threw herself on his neck, and kissed him 
effusively. 

‘‘ Oh, my tiny one,” said she, in Kommany, “ my 
delicate, dear, and darling rorn. Am I not weaving 
spells to make thee Pharaoh, and wilt thou hearken 
to lies? I would wed him and kill thee. Aye! aye! 
This have I said, but the lips lie, and the heart is 
true. When my task is ended he and she (the ac- 
cursed one!) will die, and we shall reign Pharaoh 
and Mother of the Gales.” 

“ Have done, Pepa! We know one another. You 
speak true, and it is as well. Lie, and over the cliff 
•you go.” 

At the menace of his tone Pepa’s eyes glittered 
angrily, and with a petulent stamp of the foot, she 
turned away. It boded ill for her surly roni should 
she become Mother of the Gales. Still, her immedi- 
ate desire being thus obtained, she smoothed her face, 
and confronted Challice with triumphant smiles. 

“ Hear you what he says, my Englishman ?” said 
she. “But no! I forget! You know not the kalo 
jib. Tell him, my brother.” 

“It is no use, rye,” exclaimed Goliath, in a low 
tone; “Jativo believes in his romi. Hot till he 
dies from drao will he know how base is the witch.” 


THE LORD OF THE HORSESHOE 


121 


“Is Pharaoh satisfied?” asked Pepa, not overhear- 
ing this complimentary speech. 

“ I am satisfied that your intentions are evil,” re- 
plied Challice, frowning. “Listen to me, Pepa. Jara 
alone knows the name of the city, and to my wife 
alone will she reveal it. My future wife you know ; 
but rest assured, whatever occurs, never shall I have 
ought to do with your evil heart.” 

“ And yet,” smiled Pepa, lightly, “ you thought 
not ill of me when I danced for your pleasure.” 

“I dare say not,” retorted Challice. “ You are as 
pretty a devil as I have seen.” 

“ Beware lest the devil devour thee !” said she, 
fiercely. Challice looked coldly at her, and turned 
towards Jativo. 

“You chose to disregard my warning, broth- 
er, but e’re I leave this valley you will remem- 
ber it.” 

“ Twice have I failed to slay,” replied Jativo, with 
menace. “ The third time is one of luck.” 

“Job!” roared Goliath, grasping the smith’s 
shoulder with one huge hand ; “ the third time will 
be your death, not the rye’s. Touch but a hair of 
his head, and I break your neck. My mark for your 
memory, brother.” 

With a shriek of mingled pain and anger Jativo 
sprang back. Goliath had forced his hand to the 
horseshoe glowing on the anvil. Challice uttered 


122 


THE NAMELESS CITY 


an ejaculation, but Pepa laughed aloud. She did 
not disapprove of the action, and darted a look of 
admiration at the gypsy. 

“ Let that warn you,” continued Goliath, kicking 
over the anvil. “The rye is my brother, and what 
harms him harms me. I war not on women, but 
with you as a foe I fight. Come, brother,” he add- 
ed, turning towards the astonished Challice, “ let us 
leave these rats in their hole.” 

: Jativo, groaning with pain, was seated by his over- 
turned anvil. Making no effort to assist him, Pepa 
coolly produced and lighted a cigarette. As Goliath 
led the Englishman towards the exit of the cave she 
laughed again. Such merriment was not pleasant 
to hear. Disgusted at her heartless conduct, Chal- 
lice paused a moment, and pointed at the groaning 
Jativo. 

; “ Have you no pity ?” 

“ Aye, brother, but not for my rom. You I pity ! 
He shall live ! you shall die.” 

“Death or life, Pepa, never shall you become 
Queen of the Cales.” 

She vouchsafed no reply to this remark, but be- 
gan again her sinister singing : 

At dawn the grave-digger 
To dig a pit began, 

By night there we laid thee^ 

A murdered man,^"* 


THE LORD OF THE HORSESHOE 


123 


As they hastily descended the staircase her laugh- 
ter followed them in shrill mockery. When in the 
open air, Challice drew a long breath. 

“ What a woman !” said he, wiping his brow ; 
“evil in all ways. She cares no more for Jativo 
than she does for me.” 

“Only for herself does she care, brother. Were 
her rom dying, she would sit there smoking at his 
death.” 

“You went too far, Goliath, in burning Jativo’s 
hand.” 

“ No, brother,” replied Goliath, decisively ; “ the 
scamp needed a lesson. He might kill you in order 
to become Pharaoh. Now he will not do so. That 
burnt hand will keep him in mind of my promise 
to break his neck.” 

“ Would you do so ?” 

“If aught happened to you, brother, I would 
crush him like a fly.” 

“ I thank you, Goliath, but I trust you will not be 
reduced to such extreme measures. After this fes- 
tival, I leave Egypt with Mrs. Ingraham.” 

“ That cannot be ; as future Queen of the Gales, 
she must remain here.” 

Challice looked round at the dreary scene and 
shuddered. 

“ It’s like Dante’s Inferno^'' he muttered. “ What- 
ever happens, that must not be.” 


124 


• THE NAMELESS CITY 


Of this he said nothing to Goliath, dreading lest 
it should displease so good a friend. All the same, 
he swore that nothing would induce him to let Isaia 
accept so onerous a dignity. They returned to their 
cave, at the entrance of which Goliath paused and 
spoke. 

“One warning, rye,” said he, solemnly. “Pepa 
has not finished with you yet. She is more dan- 
gerous to you than is Jativo.” 

“ She means still to kill me.” 

“No! replied Goliath, decisively ; she means still 
to marry you.” 


CHAPTER IX 


FASCIST ATION 

So strongly flamed the vertical snn on glittering 
' pyramid and naked rock that the heat was well-nigh 
intolerable. The rays refracted from slag and ba- 
salt and sandstone made a molten furnace of the 
cleft. It seemed impossible that life could exist in 
such torridness. Secluded in their caverns the gyp- 
sies ameliorated this condition of things by sleeping 
during the hottest hours of the day. In solitary 
street and vacant hollow a noontide hush prevailed, 
accentuated rather than broken by the torrent’s 
drowsy thunder. < 

Through the cave’s entrance a scant measure of 
light creeping in hardly affected the twilight at- 
mosphere. Here all was cool and dusky, a welcome 
relief from the exterior glare. A feeling of lassitude 
was in the air, and rendered somnolent the inmates 
of the cavern. Of these one (it was Goliath) lay su- 
pine, at the far end, in uneasy slumber, and the other, 
unable to close his eyes, brooded thoughtfully near 
the doorway. An expected visit from Mrs. Ingraham 
and many perplexing thoughts kept Challice awake. 


126 


THE NAMELESS CITY 


As may be supposed, etiquette counted for little 
with the unsophisticated cave-dwellers. Certainly 
natural courtesies prevailed to some extent, but 
the regulations of society were as naught in their 
eyes — indeed, they were ignorant that such annoy- 
ances existed. All who came hither were vagrants, 
and unaccustomed to artificial restrictions. 

Challice and Mrs. Ingraham could scarcely be 
classed among these, yet they also, after a time, * 
lapsed into similar laxness. She, who would not 
have dreamed of calling at his bachelor chambers, 
paid him prolonged visits in his cave, without even 
the chaperonage of Goliath. For hours they would 
converse of matters important to themselves, and 
felt the subtle charm of such free intercourse. 
Their ingrained Bohemianism asserted itself strong- 
ly in this isolation, and Mrs. Ingraham neither hesi- 
tated to visit him, nor did Challice object to receive 
her at all hours. 

The unfortunate result of his interview with Ja- 
tivo made him anxious to see her again. Vexed by 
the indiscretion of Goliath in provoking still farther 
the enmity of the blacksmith, Challice wished to re- 
fer his perplexities to the clear judgment of Mrs. In- 
graham. She, if any one, would see a way out of the 
entanglement, and know (from racial instinct) how 
best to deal with these dangerous people. With such 
elements of discord at work the outlook was any- 


FASCINATION 


12'7 


thing but pleasant, and fervently did Challice wish 
that he could cut the Gordian knot of such troubles 
by leaving the gorge. That he could not do until 
the festival was over, and at the festival he expected 
the crisis would come. 

“ The cards were turned hy me^ 

To learn thy fate, 

They boded ill to thee, 

From hidden hate^ 

Challice looked up with a shiver, and saw Pepa 
standing in the doorway. Discarding the mantilla, 
she was costumed entirely in red, and looked full of 
trickery and maliciousness. Her sinister song end- 
ed, she twirled a flower in her fingers, and smiled at 
the startled expression on his face. 

“ Ay ai mi,” said she, mockingly ; “lam not the 
expected one.” 

“You certainly are not,” retorted Challice, an- 
noyed by her persistence. “ Why do you come 
here?” 

“ Ah, why indeed, my brother ! Pah ! It is writ- 
ten ! You have bar lachi.” 

“I have told you before, and I tell you now, that 
I carry no such rubbish. If you are wise, leave 
me.” 

“ Alas ! who is wise ?” said Pepa, slipping down 
beside him. “Hot I — at present. Oh, yes, my 


128 


THE NAMELESS CITY 


timid dove, well I know why you wish me away. 
Your rani comes shortly, and you fear her anger — 
her jealous rage.” 

“ There you are wrong, Pepa ! She would never 
be jealous of you.” 

“ She may have cause to yet.” 

Challice received this malicious suggestion with a 
scornful laugh. He greatly doubted Pepa’s powers 
of fascination. 

“ Who laughs may weep,” said she, guessing the 
reason of his mirth. “ You, my English lord, are not 
the man to withstand red lips and bright smiles.” 

‘‘Forewarned is forearmed,” retorted Challice, 
countering one proverb with another. “I know 
you too well to believe in those soft glances. But 
knowing that Mrs. Ingraham will one day be my 
romi, I wonder you are not afraid of her anger.” 

“ I value her anger as much as I do this flower.” 

She tossed the blossom contemptuously in his 
face with an insolent laugh, and, producing a cigar- 
ette, continued her speech with bent brows. 

“ So, Englishman, you lied to me 1” 

“ When, and how ?” demanded he, startled by the 
directness of this attack. 

“You said she whom you loved was a Gentile.” 

“I said what I then believed. At that time I 
was as ignorant as you that Mrs. Ingraham had 
gypsy blood in her veins.” 


FASCINATION 


129 


“The devil is in it that it should be so,’’ mut- 
tered Pepa, frowning. “Ah, well, gray owl,” she 
added, with a confidential nod, “ you shall not marry 
her.” 

“ So you say !” 

“ So the cards say, and the stars,” retorted the 
gypsy, thrusting the cigarette between her lips. 
“ Your lines of life touch and part. It is a true 
bahi.” 

“ Bah ! you said the reverse at our last interview. 
I suspect you invent prophecies to suit your own 
ends.” 

“ Wise is she who can control Fate,” replied Pepa, 
evading a direct answer. “ If I can do so, rye, you 
may be sure I shall not permit the rani to become 
your wife and our queen.” 

“ I am not sure that she cares about the office,” 
said Challice, rashly. 

Pepa’s eye lighted immediately with eager in- 
quiry. The remark pleased her. 

“ Ha !” said she, with incredulous joy, “ think you 
so, my tiny one ? Then take her away from Egypt.” 

“ That I cannot do, Pepa. Jara — 

“Oh, Jara! Jara!” interrupted she, disdainfully; 
“ think not of Jara ! Old and weak and foolish, she 
must shortly die. Then I become Mother of the 
Gales.” 

“ Tell me, Pepa,” questioned Challice, looking 

9 


130 


THE NAMELESS CITY 


curiously at her brilliant face, “ why do you wish 
for so melancholy an office T 

It gives me power, and power I love,” answered 
Pepa, proudly. “ It is no light thing that my word 
should be law from east to west. I shall do great 
things for the Eomraany. We are weary of wan- 
dering, and I would form our scattered tribes into a 
mighty nation.” 

“If you can chain the Rommany to one place, 
you are a clever woman, and fit to rule as queen. 
But such a thing is impossible. Race nature would 
be too strong for you. Moreover,” added Challice, 
significantly, “as queen you must dwell in this dreary 
valley. I can imagine nothing more melancholy.” 

“I dwell not here forever,” said Pepa, hitching 
up her shoulders. “There are fairer valleys than 
this in the Biscayan mountains. I may go thither, 
and dwell amid greenness.” 

“You are very ambitious.” 

“I was born so. All my life have I desired to 
rule after Jara. The lore of the Rommany I know 
well. Who so versed in our laws as I ? Oh, I could 
rule ! I could rule nobly !” she cried, springing to 
her feet. “ All things do I know, save the name of 
this city. Could I learn that, queen should I be.” 

“ Then ask Jara to reveal it, and be queen,” said 
Challice, weary of this incessant harping on one 
string. Pepa made a gesture of impotent rage. 


FASCINATION 


131 


“Only your romi may learn it! Would I were 
the chosen one !” 

With downcast lids she glanced demurely at Chal- 
lice lying on the ground. The significance of the 
gaze troubled his consciousness. After all, he was a 
man, and she a pretty woman. Resolved to put an 
end to such hints and hopes and subtle dangers, he 
answered her, roughly, 

“ It cannot be 1 I marry Mrs. Ingraham. Re- 
main yon here with Jativo.” 

“ Evil be his end,” she muttered, sullenly. “ I 
weary of his harsh ways. Look yon, my brother,” 
she continued, rapidly ; “ it is not wise that we 
should quarrel. I tried to have you slain by steel 
and bullet. That was folly, and failed as it de- 
served. You carry bar lachi, and naught can harm 
you. You gain thereby the love of all. You have 
won my love — aye, senor, frown as you will, it is 
true. I love you 1 I love you ! I love you 1” 

Vehemently repeating the words, she held out her 
arms to Challice. He, now on his feet, shrank back- 
ward and surveyed her with mingled feelings of 
admiration and repulsion. With passionate eyes, 
heaving bosom, and stormy impetuosity, she looked 
beautiful and dangerous. There was something of 
the serpent’s power of fascination about this wild 
creature, which at once allured and repelled. 

Tempted as he was, Challice yet strove to keep 


132 


THE NAMELESS CITY 


his head against the whirlwind of her passion. 
With significant smile and steady voice he repeated 
one name, 

‘‘ Jativo !” 

“Ah, think not of him,’’ she cried, stamping her 
foot. “ I hate him — I despise him ! Give me your 
love,” she said, drawing closer — “give me your 
love, and I shall kill him.” 

“No doubt,” retorted Challice, coolly; “I quite 
believe you to be capable of any devilry. Are you 
not afraid of my telling Jativo ?” 

Pepa made a circular movement in the air with 
her forefinger, and laughed contemptuously. 

“ I can twist him like that,” said she, with superb 
disdain. “You warned him yesterday, and what 
did he do? Laughed at you, and believed me. Oh, 
I can deal with these men as I choose. But you, 
my lord, you are strong and noble. Come to my 
arms, and we shall rule the Gales.” 

She made as though to fling herself on his neck, 
but, stepping back a pace, he pointed significantly to 
the sleeping man. Pepa uttered an ejaculation of 
rage. 

“ The English cur ! ah, bah ! who cares ! He 
hates me, I know, but him also can I conquer. This 
is not the time to hesitate, senor. In two days is 
the festival. At it will be the chosen three. If 
Jara reveals the word to your romi, I lose all. Ah ! 


FASCINATION 


133 


ah !’• said she, throwing herself on his breast, “ love 
me ! love me ! make me yoiir romi, dear one.” 

Clinging to his neck, she looked into his eyes with 
passionate love. Confused and off his guard by the 
sudden tempest, Challice could but hold her in his 
arms, and stare as spellbound down on her eloquent 
face. What he would have said or done he knew 
not, for at that moment two small white hands 
griped Pepa by the shoulders, and whirled her half- 
way across the cave. Challice raised his eyes and 
saw not Mrs. Ingraham, but Isaia Stanley. The 
primal nature asserted itself over the artificial, and 
the cultured lady disappeared in the wild gypsy. 
With flashing eyes, she glanced from Pepa to her 
lover, and, seemingly from rage, was unable to ar- 
ticulate a word. 

The noise had roused Goliath, who, still bemused 
with sleep, stood beside Pepa. Challice, knowing 
that appearances were against him, judged it wise to 
keep silent. Not so Pepa, who was the first of those 
present to recover her tongue, and burst out into 
voluble Rommany, mainly directed against Mrs. In- 
graham. That lady, with staring eyes and dilated 
nostrils, lost no time in responding, and for a minute 
or so there was a furious duet. Challice would will- 
ingly have put an end to so painful a scene, but 
Mrs. Ingraham, with an imperious gesture, forbade 
his interference. He could not understand what 


134 


THE NAMELESS CITY 


they were saying, but Goliath could, and presently 
began to laugh. 

Enraged at his action, Pepa turned and struck him 
across the face; then, casting a look of contempt on 
Mrs. Ingraham, darted from the cave. Goliath fol- 
lowed, and the lovers were left alone. In the mo- 
mentary silence between them, Pepa began singing 
in the distance, and, until her voice died away, no 
word was spoken. 

Thus sang Pepa : 

“ To thee in the darkness I cried ^ 

And thou didst follow^ beloved, 

For dawn found thee close by my side." 

“You hear the message,’’ burst out Mrs. Ingraham, 
tauntingly. “ Why not follow her ?” 

“Isaia !” 

So reproachful was his gaze that she dropped her 
eyes, and a flush passed over her face. Nevertheless, 
with true feminine obstinacy, she held to her opinion, 
instinctively wrong as she knew it to be. 

“ Explain ! explain !” she cried, stamping her 
foot. 

“ There is nothing to explain,” answered he, 
serenely. 

“Do not mock me, Lancelot. I come here and find 
this woman with you — find her arms round your 
neck. What does it mean ?” 


FASCINATION 


135 


“ Nothing more than that Pepa is up to her old 
games.” 

“ You have not encouraged her ?” said Mrs. Ingra- 
ham, with jealous insistance. 

Challice laughed at the absurdity of the question. 

“ You can take my word for it,” said he, smiling. 
“ Could I dally with a woman who sought my death?” 

“ If she loved you.” 

Perhaps ! But there it is ! She does not love 
me ! Our conversation was more about ambition than 
love. It is not my wife she desires so much to be as 
Mother of the Cales.” 

“ Still — still — ” hesitated Mrs. Ingraham, trying to 
think of some further objection. 

Challice, clasping both her hands in his own, looked 
serious. 

“I assure you, Isaia, this is false, love. I do not 
in the least care for Pepa. She is determined that I 
shall succumb to her arts, but that cannot happen 
while my heart is yours.” 

And is it mine ?” whispered she, doubtfully. 

‘‘ I know of no other person likely to possess it. 
You must not be so jealous of me.” 

“ I cannot help it. When I savr her on your breast 
I could have killed you both.” 

“ The innocent with the guilty!” said he, trying to 
turn it off with a jest. “ But if you feel so strong- 
ly, why not leave this place with me at once ?” 


136 


THE NAMELESS CITY 


“No!” said she, obstinatelj ; “ I promised Jara to 
remain for the festival. Moreover, I am determined 
to thwart the Schemes of Pepa.” 

“What does it matter? You do not wish to be 
queen.” 

Mrs. Ingraham looked out on that barren world 
with an irrepressible shudder. 

“No! I do not wish to be queen, certainly, but 
I have sufiicient love for my own people to prevent 
Pepa ruling.” 

“ Let the Kommany fight it out among them- 
selves.” 

“ I also am a gypsy !” she said, proudly, “and the 
welfare of my race I have at heart. Pepa’s rule 
would bring lis into collision with the Gentiles, and 
we are too weak in number to stand against them. 
Oh, I know well her ambitious nature. She must not 
rule, else it goes ill with our people.” 

“ Then accept the queenship ^^onrself.” 

“And dwell here! Impossible! Besides,” she 
added, with a meaning smile, “ before I learn the 
hidden name, I must become your wife.” 

“ Is that a hardship ?” asked he, somewhat net- 
tled. 

“ It is the desire of my heart as you well know, but 
there are difficulties in the way.” 

“And those difficulties?” 

“I shall tell you them in June. But,” she said. 


FASCINATION 


137 


seriously, “ wheii I tell all, who knows but what you 
may refuse to marry me 

“ I think that is impossible,” he said, smiling. 

‘‘Well, we shall see.” 

“Does Jara know of these objections?” 

“ She does not. I do not tell her all things. If 
she thinks I am going to marry you, she will tell me 
the name, and I shall become queen. In that event, 
I shall surrender the authority to some other than 
Pepa, and thus can leave the valley. Then, when we 
get back to England, at the appointed time I shall tell 
you my reasons for the delay, and the matter will be at 
your discretion. You may marry me — you may not.” 

“ I cannot conceive what the reason can be.” 

“No ! Doubtless it will seem but a paltry one in 
your eyes. Nevertheless, some men would object. 
Besides, it is my whim.” 

“ Ah, that is the true obstacle !” 

“ Perhaps ! If a woman is worth winning, she is 
worth waiting for. Prove yourself a patient lover, 
and you shall receive your reward.” 

“And Pepa ?” 

“ I am no longer jealous of her, and my confidence 
in you is completely restored.” 

Goliath, hot and dusty, interrupted them at this 
point. 

“My brother! my sister!” he cried, much excited, 
“ great dangers are in the future.” 


138 


THE NAMELESS CITY 


What is the matter, Goliath 

“ Job !’’ said the gypsy, wiping his brow. “ Jativo 
has left Egypt.” 

“ How do you know that ?” asked Mrs. Ingraham, 
quickly. 

“I followed Pepa up to his cave, and he was gone. 
Then she told me he had departed.” 

‘‘Has he completed his horseshoes?” 

“Ho! and that is worst of all,” said Goliath, 
doubtfully. “He must have some strong reason 
to thus disobey the Mother, and leave Egypt se- 
cretly.” 

“But why secretly ? Jara must have seen him pass 
through her cave, as that is the only outlet.” 

“She may have slept,” interposed Mrs. Ingra- 
ham. “She is old, and not the watcher she once was. 
But as to Jativo^s reason for leaving Egypt, I can see 
it plainly.” 

“What is it?” demanded the men, simultane- 
ously. 

“He has gone to Palma in order to intercept The 
Appointed Three.” 


CHAPTER X 


THE APPOINTED THKEE 

The rejuvenescence of Jara began at this period. 
Interest in the forthcoming festival and the hope of 
thwarting Pepa’s schemes had equal shares in the 
accomplishing of the miracle. No longer indulging 
in vague dreams of the past, she addressed herself 
to the necessary preparations for the solemnity, and 
daily received representatives of the gypsy tribes. 
These came from all parts of the world at her bid- 
ding to assist at the important ceremony of naming 
the new Mother. Constantly bands of wild folk ar- 
rived in the valley, and took up their abode in the 
caverns. On the day before the function the whole 
narrowness of the cleft was thronged with barbaric 
humanity. 

Strange to say, Jativo had succeeded in eluding 
the vigilance of Jara, and in escaping from the 
gorge. The old crone was wroth at the man’s diso- 
bedience, and it would have gone hard with him had 
he made immediate return. Jativo was too crafty 
to submit himself to such danger, and remained ab- 
sent from Egypt. Doubtless he was satisfied that 


140 


THE NAMELESS CITY 


Pepa would look well after their mutual interests, 
but unfortunately Pepa also fell under the ban of 
Jara’s displeasure. It came about in this wise : 

“Come hither, Pepa,’’ said Jara, meeting her by 
chance near the pyramid. “ Is it true that your rom 
has disobeyed my commands and left his cavern ?” 

“It is true,” retorted Pepa, insolently; “I make 
no secret of it. He has departed to Palma. There 
shall he meet with and speak to The Appointed 
Three.” 

“ Witch !” cried the old woman, furiously. “ Dare 
you to speak so to me? Am I not the Mother of 
the Cales? Owe you not obedience to me?” 

Pepa faced the angry crone without blanching, 
and in mockery sang a snatch of evil meaning : 

“ Angry words need no reply; 

When the speaker's hreath is failing^ 

In thy grave thou soon wilt lie." 

“ To thy home, girl,” said Jara, smiting the ground 
with her staff. “ Taunt me not with death. Soon 
must I die, but ere my breath fails I shall balk your 
ambition.” 

“ That you cannot do.” 

“ Aye, that I can do ! Are my hundred years of 
wisdom as naught against your handful of months? 
An evil queen would I give the Cales in telling the 
name to you. Enough ! you red witch ! Too long 


THE APPOINTED THEEE 


141 


have I spared you. Now I shall be obeyed. To 
your cave.” 

Pepa, looking defiantly at the Queen, would have 
resisted, but the lowering looks of the gypsies 
around warned her against adventuring too far. 
Making a virtue of necessity, she twisted on one 
foot and retreated — not without mockery and many 
Parthian shafts. 

“ My young wits against your old ones, mother,” 
she sneered. “Death sits on that wrinkled brow. 
When thou art dead, I reign. The stars have said it, 
and who is Jara to cross their ruling? You rule 
to-day, I to-morrow. Go into the darkness beyond 
the years, old mother. Well do I know your fate: 

/ enter said she, at the door ; 

‘ ’ Tis Heaven shines inside 
‘ Then enter,' said the evil one. 

And hell's gate opened wide. 

Ha ! ha ! old mother, red fire for your old bones.” 

Several Eommany, indignant at these insults, ran 
after the daring Pepa, but she, eluding them with 
much dexterity, vanished into one of the caverns. 
Her derisive laughter angered them greatly. 

“ Come back, my children !” cried Jara, imperi- 
ously ; “ evil lives have evil ends. I shall punish 
the wrong-doer. Leave her to Jara.” 

She nodded cheerfully to the crowd, and hobbled 


142 


THE NAMELESS CITY 


back to her cavern with a heavy heart. In spite of 
the brave front she opposed to Pepa, there was much 
in the young gypsy’s demeanor which caused her 
serious uneasiness. Unless Pepa had some sure 
card to play she surely would not dare to act in 
so defiant a manner. When back in her own dwell- 
ing-place Jara sat down to ruminate on Pepa’s inso- 
lence. 

“Pepa cannot know the name,” muttered she; 
“and only such knowledge would make her so 
daring. I have breathed it to no human being. I 
alone know the name of Egypt. Can it be that she 
has been informed of the pyramid stone ? The son 
of my son’s son is aware of that ! It may be that he 
has revealed it to her by chance. Her evil beauty 
has snared his heart to its undoing.” 

The idea that such a thing might be tormented 
her greatly. Pepa was beautiful, reckless, and cun- 
ning past all knowledge ; so, seduced by her devilries, 
it was possible that Challice had revealed the secret. 
Much perturbed, the old woman straightway sent 
for the Englishman. It was best, she thought, to 
know and face the worst. 

“ If such be the case,” she said, when her messen- 
ger departed, “I must find some means to remove 
her from hence. With The Appointed Three must 
she die.” 

When Challice arrived she made him sit near her. 


THE APPOINTED THREE 


143 


and at once questioned him concerning his dealings 
with Pepa. 

Is it true, child,” said she — is it true that you 
visited Pepa in the cave of her rom ?” 

“ It is true, mother.” 

“ You were alone ?” 

“No! Goliath was with me — Jativo with her! 
We had no conversation together.” 

Jara, satisfied with this information, drew a breath 
of relief, and pursued her examination. 

“ Has she visited you ?” 

“ Two days ago, in my cave.” 

“ Alone ?” she asked, anxiously. 

For the moment Challice hesitated, not being 
quite sure what answer to make. Noticing this 
wavering, Jara’s face darkened, and she laid her 
hand appealingly on the arm of the young man. 

“ Tell all ! tell true,” she said, meaningly ; “ fear 
not to own all to me. Only by knowing the truth 
can I hope to baffle that red witch.” 

“There is not much to tell,” replied Challice, 
somewhat surprised at her solemnity. “ I was alone 
with Pepa, yet not. alone, for Goliath was sleeping 
at the end of the cave.” 

“ She is an evil one, that Pepa, my son. Well I 
know her desire to be your romi and Queen of the 
Gales. Did you fall into the snares of her evil 
beauty ?” 


144 


THE NAMELESS CITY 


‘‘No,” said Challice, heartily. “She tried her 
best, but Isaia arrived and sent Pepa away.” 

“ You do not love Pepa ?” 

“ Not in the least. You know well, mother, that 
I desire to marry Isaia. Why do you ask me these 
questions?” 

“ I know how witchly is Pepa, child, and I fear 
lest you should have revealed the secret of the pyra- 
mid to her greedy ears.” 

“About that stone? No, I have neither thought 
nor spoken of it.” 

“You are certain of this?” demanded Jara, 
eagerly. 

“ As certain as that I am sitting by your side.” 

“ She must then be ignorant of the name,” reflect- 
ed Jara, in a low voice. “Without such knowledge 
she is powerless.” 

“Is Pepa giving further trouble?” inquired Challice. 

“ She has given nothing else but trouble, child,” 
replied Jara, bitterly ; “ but I shall crush her yet. 
Not lightly shall she dare my authority.” 

“ I suppose she is trying to learn the name of the 
city ?” 

“ Aye, aye ! but that she cannot do save from me. 
She and her rom are foolish children, who think to 
discover it from The Appointed Three.” 

“I heard that Jativo had gone to Palma to see 
them.” 


THE APPOINTED THREE 


145 


It is true, fool that he is,” chuckled Jara. “ He 
deems they know the hidden name, but as yet they are 
ignorant. Hot until Jara’s breath is failing is that 
revealed to the three, and to the future Mother.” 

Who are The Appointed Three?” demanded Chal- 
lice, whose curiosity had never been satisfied on this 
point. 

“ It is our custom, child,” explained Jara — “ it is 
our custom that none know the name of this city 
save the Mother. It was told to me many, years ago, 
and so I became Queen of the Gales. How I tell 
it to thy romi, and she in her turn will rule. Yet it 
may be,” added the crone, slowly, that one claims 
the queenship without knowing the name. To 
avert so great a disaster, three men are appointed — 
three old, feeble, dying men — and to these also does 
the departing Mother reveal the name. When the 
new Queen is questioned by the three concerning 
the name, she tells it to them, and they, knowing 
she speaks truly, proclaim her Mother of the Gales. 
Thus, my child, are all dangers averted from the 
Horn many.” 

‘‘But by that arrangement four people know the 
name,” dissented Ghallice. 

“ Did I not say that The Appointed Three are old, 
feeble, and dying? When their task is ended, and 
the new Mother is proclaimed, then they die.”. 

The deadly menace in her tones struck a chill 
10 


146 


THE NAMELESS CITY 


into the heart of Challice. He felt the hair bristle 
on his scalp. 

‘‘ Die !” repeated he, in a low voice. ‘‘ Do you 
kill them 

“ They are already dying,” repeated Jara, dogged- 
ly. We do but aid the inevitable. Of their own 
free will do they undertake the risk, and know when 
it is ended they must not live.” 

But it is murder.” 

‘‘ No, child; they die by their own hands, of their 
own free will.” 

‘‘And the three who are now at Palma?” stam- 
mered the young man. 

“ They shall live long enough to learn the name 
from me, hear it from your romi, and then, their 
task being ended, die.” 

“ They do not yet know the name ?” 

“None but Jara hath that knowledge.” 

“Then the errand of Jativo is useless?” 

“ Quite useless. He may question, but they can- 
not answer. They are ignorant of what he desires 
to know. Pepa, thinking to learn the name without 
my aid, is triumphant now — she will be humble 
shortly,” finished Jara, spitefully. 

“Have these three men mortal diseases?” 

“ The first is a leper, my child, the second far 
gone in consumption, and the third with old age 
totters on the verge of the grave.” 


THE APPOINTED THREE 


147 


This answer mitigated in some degree the horror 
of Challice. If the three men were in such dire 
straits no earthly power could save them, therefore 
the hastening of the inevitable end was less appall- 
ing than he thought. Much interested in these 
revelations, which revealed a new and darker side to 
the Kommany character, he questioned Jara fur- 
ther. 

“ When you reveal the name to the new Queen, 
must you also die 

“ Kot in that way, child*” she answered, with a 
toothless smile ; but I must die soon of old age. 
When I reveal the name to your romi I retire to my 
cave, and there wait the coming of death. No longer 
do I see the sun or walk forth among my people. I 
die ! I die ! and none care to lament over my death. 
Ay di mi,” she wailed, tossing her arms in the air, 
“how cruel are the years. They beat and crush • 
our bodies to the earth. This body, my child, was 
once fresh and fair as that of Pepa. Look at it now 
— a withered husk, a wrinkled sheath. But Death 
is kinder than the years. He will draw my soul 
forth from this old flesh and give it a new dwell- 
ing.” 

“You mean that your soul will become incarnate 
in another body?” 

“ Who knows ?” mumbled Jara, plucking her red 
cloak around her. “We say these things, and be- 


148 


THE NAMELESS CITY 


lieve that the soul cannot die, but who knows ? We 
tell our children that in another world evil is pun- 
ished and good rewarded, but who knows ? It may 
be we lived in a former life and died into this ex- 
istence, and are born by death from this into a 
new life to die again into another, but who knows? 
Ah !” she muttered, shaking her old head, “ wise 
men say these things, but the youngest child is as 
wise as they in such matters. We may live, we may 
be stamped out of existence, but who knows — who 
knows ?” 

After this outburst she relapsed into silence, and 
not one word could Challice draw from her. Over 
the fire she crouched with spread hands, muttering 
words to herself in a strange tongue. There was 
something fearsome in this aged woman sitting by 
the dying fire, and Challice made haste to leave 
that unholy cavern. From the platform in front 
of her dwelling he looked up the street, and saw it 
was crowded with people in many-colored raiment. 
The sound of many voices, bursts of laughter, 
and snatches of barbaric melody around the grim 
black rocks, and overhead the cerulean arch of the 
sky. 

‘‘ Oh, for herb or tree or grassy sward !” he mut- 
tered, descending into the crowd. “ My eyes ache 
for the tint of green. Surely the Kommany chose 
this iron-bound valley from its very dissimilarity to 


THE APPOINTED THREE 


149 


their ordinary existence. Savage, inhospitable, som- 
bre, it must be like a foretaste of hell to their forest- 
loving nature.” 

Goliath was waiting for him near the pyramid, 
and hailed his approach with loud satisfaction. The 
look of anxiety on his usually merry face did not 
escape the observant eye of Challice. 

“ What is the matter, Goliath ?” he asked, when 
greetings were over. 

“ Be siJent, my brother,” said the gypsy, in Eng- 
lish, casting a significant look on the crowd. “ Come 
to our cave ; I have much to tell you.” 

With a prophetic instinct of coming woe, Challice 
followed his guide. When they were safely arrived 
he at once repeated his former question — 

What is the matter?” 

“ Oh, my brother,” replied Goliath, quickly, “ Pepa 
is again at her tricks!’ This time she means dan- 
ger.” 

I don’t think she ever means anything else,” said 
Challice, bitterly. “ I wish somebody would throw 
her into the torrent.” 

Goliath nodded his head in grim approval. The 
savagery of the remark was greatly to his liking. 

“ That win be the end of it, rye, and a good job, 
too.” 

“ Well, what is she doing now ?” 

Goliath looked apprehensively around to make 


150 


THE NAMELESS CITY 


sure that they were alone, and then approached his 
mouth to the ear of Challice. 

She is preparing poison,’’ he whispered. 

“ Poison !” repeated Challice, in a startled tone. 
‘‘For whom?” 

“ For you — for me — for the rani — aye, my brother, 
for us all.” 

“ How do you know this ?” 

“ Last night, brother, I was in the street, and saw 
Zargo enter Egypt from Jara’s cave.” • 

“ That is Pepa’s dwarf ?” 

“ Aye, brother ; an evil thing he is — the devil who 
works her witchery spells. I knew he had fled with 
Jativo to see The Appointed Three at Palma, there- 
fore I seized him, and asked questions.” 

“ He lied, I suppose ?” 

“ Lied, brother, as only an evil Fleming can lie. 
He denied that he had been to Palma, and that 
Jativo had sought out the Three. Hot a word of 
truth did he speak.” 

“ And you?” 

“I, brother?” said Goliath, with a complacent 
smile. “I held him over the gulf of the torrent, 
and promised to drop him in if he told not the 
truth. He knows well I keep my wojrd, and re- 
vealed all.” 

“ All what ?” 

“ All of Pepa’s devilries,” replied the gypsy, im- 


THE APPOINTED THREE 


151 


patiently. “ Jativo is now at Palma with The Ap- 
pointed Three, trying to learn from them the name 
of the city.” 

‘‘ So much waste time on his part,” said Challice, 
ironically. “ The Three do not know the name of 
the city — as yet.” 

“ Good ! it is good !” repeated Goliath, stolidly. 
“I knew Jara would be too clever for that. But 
Zargo also told me, brother, that Pepa had sent him 
down the mountains to collect herbs.” 

‘‘And for what?” 

“ To make poison. I forced Zargo to give the 
herbs to me, and threw them into the torrent. So 
you see, brother, I have drawn the serpent’s fangs.” 

“ You did wisely, Goliath. She can do nothing 
now.” 

“Not until Jativo arrives. He will doubtless 
bring back more herbs, brother. Then can she brew 
her hell-broth and slay us in secret.” 

“Jativo will be too much afraid of Jara’s anger 
to venture here.” 

“ Not if he comes with The Appointed Three, my 
brother. When they are in the valley no gypsy can 
be touched, even by the Mother, till the festival 
ends. When it does, Pepa will be queen, and Jativo 
safe.” 

“ Pepa shall not be queen, Goliath. I can promise 
you that.” 


152 


THE NAMELESS CITY 


Goliath shook his head doubtfully. He had a 
wholesome dread of Pepa and her deadly malice. 

“She is a witch, brother,” said he. “We must 
watch her and Jativo, else never will we leave this 
place alive.” 

“ Well, we shall see,” remarked Challice, thinking 
of what Jara had said (“before Pepa becomes queen 
she must learn the name”). “ As Jara refuses to tell 
it to her, I do not see how she can achieve her am- 
bition.” 

As he ended his speech a hubbub arose in the 
gorge, and they ran ou«t to see what was the matter. 
Down the street poured the crowd in the direc- 
tion of Jara’s cave, which, as has been before stated, 
served as an entrance to the valley. Pressing 
through the throng Challice and his gj^psy friend 
managed to get a glimpse down the street. 

“ What disturbs our people ?” asked Goliath of a 
by-stand er. 

“ The Appointed Three have arrived, brother.” 

They tottered slowly along, three wrecks of 
humanity — the leper, the consumptive, and the old 
man. To the entrance they had been borne in lit- 
ters, but gypsy etiquette demanded that they should 
walk to the pyramid. These men, foredoomed by 
Nature and their kinsfolk to death, bore on their 
wasted features the impress of a deadly terror. Arm 
in arm they toiled painfully upward amid the silent 


THE APPOINTED THREE 


153 


crowd. From far lands had they come hither to die 
in this barren cleft, and the goal had now been 
reached. It was a carnival of death, and chilled the 
very soul of Challice with horror. There was some- 
thing hellish about the sepulchral pageant. 

Closing his eyes he turned away, and would have 
retreated to his cave but that Goliath touched his 
arm and whispered, 

“ Jativo !” 

Challice turned, and saw his enemy following the 
three walking deaths. He looked despondent, and 
gave signs of having failed in his mission. A 
chuckle sounded in his ear, and he found Jara by 
his side, leaning on her staff. 

‘‘ He follows them to the grave,” said she, with 
prophetic insight. 


CHAPTER XI 


THE FESTIVAL 

Contrary to all reasonable expectation the festival 
took place during the hours of darkness. Whether 
this was for the avoidance of noonday heat, or be- 
cause the genius of the solemnity demand the pre- 
siding of moon and stars, Challice was unable to 
learn. Knowing the significance ascribed to the 
spheres by gypsy lore, he thought the latter reason 
the more probable of the two. Lunar and stellar in- 
fiuences count for much with untutored races, and 
the sidereal heavens, emblematic of life’s infinite 
subtleties, are as an open book, perused with tireless 
devotion for the unriddling of futurity. From the 
far East had the Rommany brought with them such 
astrological beliefs, and doubtless selected midnight 
for their festival, as sanctified by the confiuence ot 
favorable planets. 

All day the gorge presented its normal appearance 
of desertion and desolation. Few gypsies were visible 
in street or hollow, and only at sundown did they 
emerge from their subterranean retreats. Solitary 
figures at first, afterwards scattered groups, finally 


THE FESTIVAL 


155 


innumerable bands. For some inscrutable reason, 
men and women alike were arrayed in white gar- 
ments. No children were present. A ghostly com- 
pany, they filled the hollow with noiseless celerity. 
The moon had not yet shown her orb over the 
peaks, and in the solemn darkness this silent throng 
was as a gathering of the dead. 

A dais was erected near the pyramid, and hereon 
were seated The Appointed Three. These, closeted 
with Jara during the day, had learned the sacred 
name, and now were about to participate in their 
final portion of the ceremony. To them, one by 
one the chosen queen would whisper the mystic 
word, and they, vouching for her accuracy, would 
proclaim her true Mother of Gales. Afterwards the 
dying trio, with Jara as guide, would descend be- 
neath the pyramid, to be seen no more of mankind. 

In obedience to a hasty summons, Challice had 
proceeded to the Cavern of the Idols for an inter- 
view with Jara. On the way thither he was relieved 
to hear from Goliath that the ensuing ceremonies 
were not entirely of a gruesome nature. Dance and 
song, and feast and wine were to enliven the pro- 
ceedings, and show the more human side of the 
Kommany character. Yet the sight which met his 
eyes on entering the cavern gave no sign of such a 
merry futurity. Eather did it hint at distressful cir- 
cumstances. 


156 


THE NAMELESS CITY 


Mrs. Ingraham, muffled in a white burnoose, was 
seated near the fire, with tightly clasped hands, and a 
look of dogged obstinacy on her face. Jara, much 
agitated, stood beside her, and the pair were evident- 
ly in the thick of a furious argument when Challice 
entered. Both relapsed into silence at his appear- 
ance, and, for the space of a moment or so, he gazed 
at them in silence. His looks were principally di- 
rected towards Jara. The garb and demeanor of 
the old crone fascinated him greatly. 

Draped in a yellow cloak, she leaned on an ebony 
staff, and wore a rudely-fashioned silver crown, sym- 
bolic of her office. It was the first sign of regality 
Challice had seen her assume, and did not accord ill 
with her ancient majesty. Strange to say, her de- 
crepitude showed signs of renewed vitality. Excite- 
ment had straightened her bent figure, added lustre 
to her eyes, and given her back for the moment a 
portion of her youth. It was the last effort of an in- 
domitable spirit to conquer time and decay. Mind 
was struggling against matter, but the ultimate 
result was a foregone conclusion. 

‘‘Come hither, my son,” she cried, querulously, 
“ she who promised to be your romi now refuses to 
keep her word.” 

“ I did not promise,” said Mrs. Ingraham, angrily. 

“I say you did!” retorted Jara, striking the 
ground furiously. “ Am I then so old as to forget 


THE FESTIVAL 


157 


such things? Who was it came hither and revealed 
her desire to wed with a Gentile? Who, but you, 
Isaia Stanley ? Who was it told you that your lover 
was a Eommany — the son of my son’s son ? Who, 
but I, Jara, Mother of the Gales ? All has gone 
smooth for your love. I have brought hither your 
much desired rom^ — I arranged to make you Kuler 
of all, and now, forsooth, you make sport of my 
scheme.” 

Challice was about to interpose, but Mrs. Ingra- 
ham made answer almost before the old woman 
ended her speech. 

“It is true that I love Lancelot,” she said, quietly. 
“ I wish him to be my rom, but as yet I cannot give 
a definite answer. There are Gentile matters to be 
considered as well as Egyptian affairs. Not until 
June, not until I return to England, can I reply to 
his request.” 

“Then Pepa must become queen,” cried Jara, 
despairingly; “that red witch will rule evilly, but 
well. Kefuse your rom, and I tell her the secret 
name.” 

“ Pepa shall not become queen,” said Mrs. Ingra- 
ham, jealously. “ She would bring woe to the Kom- 
many. One moment, mother, and I shall see if I 
can meet your views. Mr. Challice,” she added, 
rising from her seat, “come aside with me for a mo- 
ment.” 


158 


THE NAMELESS CITY 


He obeyed her in silence, and together they 
walked apart while Jara knelt before the fire with 
many furious mutterings. When out of ear-shot, 
Mrs. Ingraham took her lover’s hand. 

“ I am going to put you on your honor,” she said, 
in a low voice. ‘‘ To thwart Pepa it is necessary that 
I become your romi. As we are in Egypt, we must 
marry according to the fashion of Egypt. So much 
will satisfy Jara, and all will go well. But promise 
me,” continued she, touching his breast, “promise 
me that the ceremony will not be binding. That 
you will leave me free to accept — or — refuse your 
offer when we return to civilized lands.” 

“ You put a heavy burden on me,” he replied, 
grudgingly, “ but as I gave my promise to wait till 
June, I am ready to abide by it. Marry me gypsy 
fashion if you choose, become Queen of the Gales, 
and I swear to hold or relinquish you, as you decide 
in England.” 

She bent forward and kissed him on the lips. At 
the caress he trembled greatly, but took no advantage 
of such momentary yielding. That it was a sop to 
Cerberus, he knew perfectly well, and the irony 
irritated him. 

“You have taken a weight off my mind,” she 
said, with a sigh of relief. “ I can now satisfy the 
scruples of Jara, and ’ thwart Pepa’s reckless am- 
bition.” 


THE FESTIVAL 


159 


No thought about me, I see,” said he, with some 
bitterness. 

“ Oh, if you play the martyr,” she began, impa- 
tiently, “you — ” 

“I shall not play the martyr,” replied Challice, 
quietly turning away ; “let us say no more about it. 
You have your wish, and I am content.” 

Woman-like, she was prepared to change her mind 
on the spot, and withdraw her objection. Had he 
remained still, she would doubtless have thrown her- 
self in his arms and consented then and there to be 
his lawful wife. His change of position lost him 
the golden opportunity, and, ashamed of her mo- 
mentary femininity, she returned to the side of Jara. 
Challice followed reluctantly. Her willingness to 
use him as a catVpaw wounded his pride. However, 
he had accepted the somewhat ignoble position, and 
was forced to be philosophic. This pseudo-marriage 
relegated him to the position of a marital Tantalus. 

“ Let it be as you wish, mother,” said Mrs. Ingra- 
ham, touching Jara on the shoulder. “ Marry me to 
Lancelot by gypsy law. Then I shall be his romi, 
and you can carry out your designs.” 

Jara arose to her feet with much alacrity, casting, 
as she did so, a swift glance at Challice. He did 
not look a happy bridegroom, and with sudden sus- 
picion she addressed them both, sharply : 

“You are agreed on this point, my children?” 


160 


THE NAMELESS CITY 


‘‘Quite agreed,” they simultaneously replied, and 
with such verbal expression of sincerity she was sat- 
isfied. 

“ Come, then, my children,” said she, briskly mov- 
ing towards the door; “let us seek the pyramid and 
my waiting gypsies.” 

During this colloquy Goliath had discreetly re- 
mained without. When the trio came forth he 
lighted a torch and preceded them up the street. 
Kejecting all aid, Jara painfully climbed the steep 
with the help of her staff, and in a wonderfnlly 
short period, considering her age, arrived in the 
crowded hollow. Here she seated herself on a low 
stool in front of the arbitrators, indicated places 
right and left to her companions, and signified her 
pleasure that the festival should begin. 

It was a singularly weird scene. The white-robed 
crowd moving recklessly under the glare of innu- 
merable torches, the irregular outline of the rocks 
daunting the sky on every side, and those three 
deaths sitting silently in the shadow of the pyramid. • 
Above, the glancing splendors of the sidereal arch 
roofing the valley, and a note of menace struck 
through all by the sliding torrent. A phantasma- 
goria of black and white shadows evolved from the 
unseen rather than kindly earth and warm hii- 
manity. 

Unexpected music pealed out in the darkness. A 


THE FESTIVAL 


161 


band of Russian gypsies began singing with an ab- 
ruptness which added greatly to the effect of their 
wild ditties. On all that great multitude was laid a 
spell of silence, and only the torrent’s murmur could 
be heard rolling a deep bass to the varying treble of 
the singers. Wayward as the wind and as fitful, the 
barbaric strains aiose, fell, arose again with irregular 
pulsation. From the even flowing of many voices, 
one alone would, lark-like, spring upward, and hover 
tremulously sweet on treble heights. Another would 
follow, a third, a fourth, then the harmonious crying 
of many throats, and the vibrating notes would sink 
downward, dying away in sobbing lowliness. It 
was like the pursuit and capture of some flittering 
tune, infinitely fanciful, irresistibly alluring. 

‘^Such must be the music of fairy-land,” said Chal- 
lice, when the applause had ceased. 

‘‘ Scarcely so melancholy, I hope,” replied Mrs. 
Ingraham, rendered pensive by the sad strains. 

‘‘ Ah, you see they adapt their songs to the genius 
of this treeless waste. Who could sing merry ditties 
in the Yalley of the Shadow?” 

“ Here are the Hungarians,” said she, “ now we 
shall hear war melodies.” 

The Czigany songs were like the mad galloping of 
horses. Fierce cries pealed skyward from brazen 
throats. At a breakneck speed the melody rushed 
onward, gathering fresh impetus at every bar. Ah- 
11 


162 


THE NAMELESS CITY 


ruptly the torrent of sound would cease, and a single 
voice utter plaintive notes of despair and anguish. 
Again the minor key would be overwhelmed by the 
gush and roar of strident clamor. Such passionate 
fierceness, such clarion voices, sent the blood spin- 
ning through the veins. Carried away by the clan- 
gor, the listeners leaped to their feet when the sing- 
ing ended. It was some considerable time before the 
excitement subsided. 

“ Had Dryden heard this singing,” said Challice, 
“ he would have added another verse to his famous 
ode.” 

After this, food and wine passed round the mul- 
titude. Usually a temperate race, on this special 
night the gypsies abandoned themselves to unbridled 
revelry. The wine sang in their brains, stripped 
them of self-control, and accentuated the ruling pas- 
sion of each and all. Some laughed^ danced, sang, 
others wept with many sighs. At times the throng 
would whirl in confused mazes as seized with ver- 
tigo, and sink with incoherent chattering in dis- 
ordered groups. On all sides could be heard the 
twanging of mandolins, the vibrations of guitars, 
the stridulation of castanets. 

Only those on the dais were free from this de- 
lirium. The silent three, veiled from head to foot, 
were already denizens of another world. They 
looked at the madness of the throng from the grave’s 


THE FESTIVAL 


163 


tlireshold. Jara, her chin resting on her staff, eyed 
dancers, drinkers, mourners, with a changeless smile. 
With irrepressible shudderings, Challice and Mrs. 
Ingraham gazed in each other’s pallid faces. Death 
behind, madness before, they could scarcely breathe 
in the stormy atmosphere of light and shadow. All 
was monstrous and unhuman, the nightmare of a 
fevered brain. 

I feel as though I were on the Brocken summit,” 
whispered Challice. ‘‘Surely the Walpurgis night 
was not more fantastical than this.” 

“It cannot last long,” replied Mrs. Ingraham, 
shuddering. “ If they ply them thus with wine, none 
will be in a fit state to comprehend the proclamation.” 

“ I do not see Pepa here.” 

“ Nor Jativo. Yet I am certain they will yet ap- 
pear and cause trouble.” 

“ It is too late for that,” said Challice. “ Soon you 
will be queen.” 

“ Nevertheless, Jara has not yet revealed to me 
the name, and, as you know, there is many a slip. I 
shall not feel safe until I am queen. Be sure Pepa 
is planning some evil.” 

The moon wheeled majestically into view. A 
gush of light sported over the peaks and filled the 
hollow with glimmering lustre. Striking downward 
the torrent glinted sparks of weak fire, and the 
torches paled in the glare. 


164 


THE NAMELESS CITY 


The delirimii liad died away, leaving a feeling of 
lassitude in the limbs of all. Inclined by such weari- 
ness to quieter diversions, they watched the juggling 
of an eastern Kommany. Five or six platters of 
brass spun above his head, and these were latterly ex- 
changed for knives, which he manipulated with much 
dexterity. Delighted as children, the onlookers ap- 
plauded loudly. 

On his retirement bands of dancing-girls in gaudy 
raiment appeared. Stringed instruments and sweet 
breathing pipes played delicately as they contorted 
their bodies in the Indian Nautch. Afterwards the 
movement and music became more vigorous. To 
the rhythm of cymbals, castanets, and tambourines, 
they bounded nimbly in the air. Linked hand in 
hand, they extended into lines, contracted into 
whirling groups, and gyrated into pliant circles. 
Poised on tip-toe, with thrown back heads, they ex- 
ecuted intricate figures, their bare arms beating the 
air. The musicians began a low-toned chant, which 
inspired them to further exertions. When voices 
and music rose to a pitch of frenzy, the dancers 
reeled out of sight, and were scattered, lost in the 
crowd. 

“And still no Pepa,” said Challice, yawning. 

“ Wait ! ” replied Mrs. Ingraham, darkly. 

Weary of the prolonged revels, Jara had several 
times impatiently nodded to intimate that they 


THE FESTIVAL 


165 


should end* The night was drawing towards the 
dawn, and already the moon had dropped behind the 
western peaks. As Challice and Mrs. Ingraham 
were to be wedded in gypsy fashion, before the proc- 
lamation of the latter as queen, there was much to 
do. Judging that the time had come for action, 
Jara raised herself unsteadily to her feet. Thrice 
she clapped her hands, and absolute silence pre- 
vailed. 

Scarcely had she opened her mouth when the rat- 
tle of castanets was heard, and Zargo ran into the 
open space before the dais, followed by a figure in 
red garments. 

“Pepa!” exclaimed Challice, glancing signifi- 
cantly at Mrs. Ingraham. 

“ Now we shall have trouble,” she murmured, with 
prophetic insight. 

With the greatest assurance, Pepa bounded tow- 
ards Jara. The old woman regarded her with ill- 
concealed aversion, but, unwilling to disturb the prev- 
alent tranquillity, gave no outward sign of anger. 
Thus, by cunning audacity, had Pepa triumphed at 
the outset. 

“Forgive me, O Mother of the Gales, for my evil- 
doing,” said she, in a humble voice. “Myrom and 
me you have punished, and hither we come to beg 
pardon.” 

At her beck Jativo emerged from the crowd, and 


166 


THE NAMELESS CITY 


together they knelt at the feet of Jara. Despite 
contrite attitude and downcast eyes, Jara felt the 
menace of such daring. 

“ You have sinned against our laws, you have dis- 
obeyed the Mother of the Gales,” she replied, harshly. 
‘‘ I cannot forgive you.” 

‘‘By the law of the Rommany a boon asked of the 
Mother must be granted on this night,” replied 
Pepa, meaningly. “Before you give us our new 
Mother, I ask pardon of you for myself and my 
rom.” 

Jara saw plainly that the cunning Pepa had set a 
trap, into which she had fallen. By gypsy law she 
was forced to grant the last request asked of her as 
queen, and in the face of her people was unable to 
refuse the petition. 

“ Have your wish, child of Satan,” she muttered, 
furiously. Then, raising her voice, “My children,” 
said she, “ these have sinned and repented. As the 
last act of my rule, I restore them to the privileges of 
the Rommany.” 

The short-sighted crowd, not knowing how their 
queen had been overreached, shouted vociferously. 
Pepa, rising to her feet, thanked Jara with ostenta- 
tious loudness for the mercy she had shown. Then 
she proceeded to bewail the passing of Jara. 

“Alas! alas!” she cried, with hypocritical weep- 
ing, “ how we shall miss this kind heart when it de- 


THE FESTIVAL 


16 Y 


parts. Never again shall we find so dear a Mother. 
May she who comes be as noble as she who goes. 
Alas ! alas ! ” 

The Kommany joined in her lament, and wept 
aloud. Jara could have struck Pepa for her action, 
but was forced to forbear and accept in grim silence 
these crocodile tears. With an evil smile on her face 
Pepa glanced at the lovers, and bent forward to 
whisper in , the ear of Mrs. Ingraham — 

“ You are not yet queen,” said she, viciously. 

‘‘ In a few minutes,” retorted Mrs. Ingraham, 
coldly. 

“We shall see,” replied Pepa, with a scornful 
laugh, and turned away. The lovers looked appre- 
hensively at one another. On what evil-doing was 
this woman now bent? 

“ In gratitude for your forgiveness, my Mother,” 
said Pepa, again bending before elara, “ I crave per- 
mission to dance before you. The Wine Dance,” 
she added, loudly. 

“ The Wine Dance !” echoed the crowd with 
delight, and, overborne by their clamor, Jara was 
forced to yield that which she would gladly have 
refused. Pepa was again triumphant. 

“ The Wine Dance !” said Jara, sinking down on 
the seat and darting a look of hatred at her enemy. 
Pepa smiled with bland deference. 

In the red glare of the relighted torches she flung 


168 


THE NAMELESS CITY 


herself into a graceful attitude, and waited for the 
music. Zargo lustily smote the strings of his guitar, 
and as the notes vibrated through the chilly air she 
began dancing. With rhythmic click of the casta- 
nets she timed the music, and floated gracefully in 
a circle. The torchlight concentrated in one place 
threw her shadow on the ground, and to this she 
began dancing. With bow and beck and inviting 
gesture she caressed the flitting phantom. She fled, 
it pursued ; she strove to catch it, it eluded her 
grasp. Quicker and quicker the music sang out, and 
sharper rang the castanets. At length she tossed 
them lightly on the ground, and whirled herself into 
a graceful pose before Jativo. 

The blacksmith presented two goblets of wine. 
One of silver she took in her right hand, the other 
of gold in her left. Although they were brimmed 
to the edge she spilled no drop. Dexterously alter- 
ing the character of the music, Zargo played a slow, 
seductive movement, and Pepa began her bacchana- 
lian dance. Uplifting the goblets, she revolved in 
rapid circles, yet so careful were her movements that 
no wine fell to the ground. Again, she placed one 
cup on her head, and, changing the other from hand 
to hand, danced with miraculous balancing of both. 
The onlookers held their breath, expecting every 
moment to see the goblet fall ; but, in spite of her 
apparently careless swaying, no such accident hap- 


THE FESTIVAL 


169 


pened, and she caught it in her hand amid frenzied 
applause. During this she danced slowly up to the 
dais, and held out the golden goblet to Jara. 

“ Drink from my cup, Mother of the Gales,’’ she 
said, “ and I shall drink from thine.” 

Thinking it was her intention to poison Jara, both 
Challice and Mrs. Ingraham made a simultaneous 
movement. Jara, however, did not need their help; 
she was equal to the occasion. 

“ Take you the golden cup, my child,” said she, 
pointedly, “ and give me to drink of the silver gob- 
let.”. 

Pepa changed color and hesitated, thereby con- 
firming the suspicions of the three before her. 

“It is not meet that the Mother should drink 
from aught but golden vessels,” she said, in a falter- 
ing voice. 

“The silver for me, the gold for thee,” replied 
Jara, mockingly. 

With the eyes of all on her, Pepa was forced to 
give Jara the cup of wine she had reserved for her- 
self, receiving what was without doubt the poisoned 
drink. Her face grew yet paler, and her lips moved 
convulsively as she saw Jara drain the silver goblet 
and wait for her to follow such example with the 
golden. 

“ Drink !” said the Mother, casting her cup on the 
ground, “ drink !” 


170 


THE NAMELESS CITY 


‘‘ I cannot,” faltered Pepa, looking with loathing 
at the golden cup. 

‘‘Drink!” hissed Jara, in low tones, “drink that 
poisoned wine, or I will tell your design to my chil- 
dren, and have you thrust into yonder chasm.” 

Fearful of such a fate, Pepa hesitated no longer, 
but with shaking hand conveyed the cup to her lips. 
The next moment it was drained and foiling on the 
ground beside its silver companion. 

“Now depart,” said the old crone, with malignant 
triumph — “depart! You have fallen into your own 
trap, red witch. Depart and die !” 

Pepa flung up her hand with a cry of despair, and 
slowly retreated, until she was swallowed up in the 
crowd. Wishing to recover herself, Jara gave the 
signal for music. When it began she leaned her 
chin on her staff and relapsed into silence. Challice 
looked at Mrs. Ingraham with horrified eyes. 

“ She must die,” he whispered, referring to the 
absent Pepa. 

“By her own act,” replied Mrs. Ingraham in a 
low voice. “She intended to poison Jara, and has 
been forced to drink the draught of death her- 
self.” 

The music went on for some considerable time, 
and still Jara, leaning on her staff, gave no sign. 
Thinking she had fallen asleep from sheer fatigue, 
Mrs. Ingraham tapped her on the shoulder. To her 


THE FESTIVAL 


m 

horror Jara fell at that slight touch, and subsided 
into a limp heap. Challice, Mrs. Ingraham, The 
Appointed Three, arose to their feet with sudden 
dread, and the music abruptly stopped. 

The Mother of the Gales was dead. 


CHAPTER XII 


VICTIS 

“ Then you think it advisable to leave the val- 
ley ?” said Challice, meditatively stroking his chin. 

“By no means,” replied Mrs. Ingraham, with 
decision ; “ there yet remains one way out of the 
difficulty.” 

What that way might be her companion did not 
then inquire. He was very busy with unpleasant 
thoughts relative to their position. The unexpected 
death of Jara had complicated the outlook in no 
mean degree. As the Mother had failed, by reason 
of her sudden demise, to reveal the hidden name 
and so appoint a new queen, the gypsies were thus 
left without a head. During such interregnum the 
greatest confusion prevailed, and, in the absence of 
law or order, all the inhabitants of the gorge were 
more or less exposed to danger. The Hornmany 
spirit needed a strong hand to curb its lawless 
instincts. 

It was now close on twelve hours since the fatal 
occurrence, and Challice was discussing the situation 
with Mrs. Ingraham. Goliath had departed on some 


YM VICTIS 


173 


errand relative to the erubal tiling of Jara’s body ; 
thus they were left in sole possession of the cave. 
He urged her to leave Egypt in his company with- 
out further delay, but for some undivulged reason 
Mrs. Ingraham refused to entertain the idea. Want 
of sleep and anxiety had played havoc with their 
looks, but neither the one nor the other gave a 
thought to such trifles. They were forecasting the 
future, and devising plans to remedy the present 
chaotic position of Egyptian affairs. The Rommany 
instincts of Mrs. Ingraham were fully aroused to 
meet and quell the dangers threatening her race. 
Challice, on the contrary, was more concerned for 
her than for himself and the troubles of gypsydom. 

“Do you not wish to know my idea, Lancelot?” 
asked she, piqued by his silence. Challice raised his 
head, and looked at her with a faint smile. 

“ I can guess it,” he said, the topmost stone of 
the pyramid.” 

“ Yes ! It was to provide against this contingency 
that Jara told us the secret. I propose to scale the 
pyramid to-night, with the assistance of yourself and 
Goliath. When I learn the name I go at once to 
The Appointed Three and ask them to proclaim me 
Mother of the Cales.” 

“Yet by doing so you condemn yourself to per- 
petual exile in this dreary wilderness.” 

“ We can think of that afterwards, and devise 


174 


THE NAMELESS CITY 


some plan of doing away with continual residence 
here. The more important thing at present is to 
act for the benefit of our race.” 

‘‘ Once you become queen, the position must be 
accepted forever,” said Challice, seriously. “It is 
doubtful whether the Rommany would allow you to 
abdicate.” 

“ I see no objection !” 

“ I see many ! One woman only must know the 
name of the city. To constitute another queen you 
would have to reveal that name. Thus, there would 
be two women in existence with such knowledge. 
That is against gypsy law, and by gypsy law one 
would surely be put to death.” 

Mrs. Ingraham shuddered. This view of the case 
had not presented itself, and was sufficiently om- 
inous to make her quail. She sought for objec- 
tions. 

“ In the present predicament so serious a point 
might be waived,” said she, much perturbed. 

“ I don’t think so. Remember, those three who 
now know the name are already doomed. If you 
learn the name, queen you must be, and dwell here 
forever. I declare,” he added, starting to his feet, 
“ it would have been better had Pepa lived. You 
could have revealed the secret to her, realized her 
ambition, and then with me have left this City of 
Nightmare.” 


VICTIS 


175 


“ I would never have told Pepa,’’ said Mrs. Ingra- 
ham, tightening her lips; “she was an evil woman. 
Even had all occurred as you say, our lives -would 
not have been safe. Pepa, possessed of unlimited 
power, would have slain us both.’’ 

“ No ! She was ambitious, not blood-thirsty. The 
queenship would have satisfied her. I suppose there 
is no doubt as to her death?” 

“ Of course not. You saw for yourself, how she 
drank the cup of poison intended for Jara.” 

“And yet Jara also died,” said Challice, signifi- 
cantly; “how do we know that her death was due to 
natural causes?” 

“ It could be due to nothing else,” answered Mrs. 
Ingraham, shrugging her shoulders. “ She was old 
and feeble. Excitement killed her.” 

“Well, we shall know the truth when Goliath re- 
turns.” 

“ You surely don’t think she was poisoned, Lan- 
celot!” 

“Who knows? All things are possible in this 
hellish place.” 

“ But reflect for a moment,” said she, vivaciously ; 
“ Pepa carried a gold and a silver cup, the former 
containing poison, the latter harmless wine. I quite 
believe she intended to poison Jara, but, owing to 
the astuteness of the old woman, was compelled to 
drink the deadly draught herself. Jara drained the 


176 


THE NAMELESS CITY 


cup — the harmless cup,” added Mrs. Ingraham, with 
much point, “ which Pepa hoped to reserve for her 
own benefit.” 

“But supposing both cups contained poisoned 
wine?” 

“ There is no sense in such a supposition. Pepa 
would have gained nothing by killing herself at the 
same time as the Mother. No, my friend, depend 
upon it she fell into her own trap. It is a plain case 
of the biter bit.” 

“ Still, I cannot believe that Pepa would have so 
calmly drank death,” persisted Challice, with uneasy 
presentiment. 

“Had she not, Jara would have thrust her .into 
the chasm. Of two evils she chose the least.” 

“Yet she might have endeavored to preserve her 
life.” 

Mrs. Ingraham held her peace. It was worse 
than useless, she reflected, to argue with so obstinate 
a man. The conversation languished, and Challice 
strolled to the door for a breath of air. Hardly had 
he gained the entrance when Goliath brushed rudely 
past him and rushed into the cave. Challice followed, 
and, with Mrs. Ingraham, wondered at the man’s agi- 
tation. 

“ What is the matter, Goliath ?” they exclaimed, 
in a breath. 

The gypsy threw himself prone on the earth and 


YM VICTIS 


177 


breathed heavily. “ I ran hither,” he gasped, “ from 
tlie Cavern of the Idols. Jara !” 

Is she alive ?” asked Challice, thinking the old 
woman might have recovered from an attack of cat- 
alepsy. Nothing appeared incredible of so strange 
a personage. 

‘‘No, rye!” replied Goliath, sorrowfully shaking 
his head, as he struggled into a sitting position, “ she 
is dead — dead as Pharaoh. But the embalmers have 
discovered the manner of her death.” 

“ Poison 1” ejaculated Mrs. Ingraham, with a star- 
tled glance at her lover. 

“ You are right, sister,” said the gypsy, surprised 
at the accuracy of her guess, “ by poison she died, at 
the hands of that accursed Pepa.” 

“ Impossible !” 

“ It is true ! The silver cup contained poisoned 
wine. Jara drank and died.” 

“ But Pepa also is dead 1” 

“ Pepa also is dead, brother,” assented Goliath ; 
“rather than lose her revenge she elected to die her- 
self.” 

“There is some mystery in this,” said Challice, 
wrinkling his brow ; “ even for revenge Pepa would 
stop short of taking her own life.” 

“ She is dead !” repeated Goliath, with sombre in- 
tensity. “At dawn I saw her body, and heard the 
crying of her rom. Ah ! the accursed witch,” he 
12 


178 


THE NAMELESS CITY 


continued, vehemently, “ may her soul be housed in 
a dog’s hide for such evil doing.” 

“ She cannot be punished in this life, at all 
events,” said Mrs. Ingraham ; ‘‘ well, she and the 
Mother are dead, but what of Egypt ?” 

“The Appointed Three are in consultation. They 
alone know the sacred name, and will reveal it to 
whomsoever is elected by our brethren.” 

“ No ! no !” exclaimed Mrs. Ingraham, rising 
abruptly, “ I must see them at once.” 

“ It cannot be, sister,” called out Goliath, as she 
walked to the door ; “ no woman is allowed to have 
speech with them. When the new queen is selected 
they will tell her the name and then die. With Jara 
shall their bodies be buried.” 

“But they must wait — they must wait,” insisted 
Mrs. Ingraham; “to-morrow I shall tell them the 
name.” 

Goliath bounded to his feet with an ejaculation 
of astonishment. The information startled him 
greatly. 

“You, sister,” cried he, “you know the name of 
our city ?” 

“ Yes,” answered Mrs. Ingraham, lying boldly for 
the benefit of the Kommany, “I know the name. 
Jara revealed it to me before she died.” 

“Job! Job!” said Goliath, clapping his great 
hands, “ this is joyful news. You, my sister, will 


VICTIS 


no 

be Mother of the Gales, and our brother, Pha- 
raoh 

“ That is so,” said Mrs. Ingraham, imposing silence 
on Challice by a look, “ but there is no time to be 
lost. Fly, my brother, to The Appointed Three, and 
tell them to wait for twelve hours. Then the name 
will be revealed, the queen proclaimed.” 

Goliath, delighted by this settlement of so impor- 
tant a question, expeditiously left the cavern. The 
lovers, once more alone, faced each other in silence. 
Mrs. Ingraham was the first to speak. 

“ Well,” said she, with a faint assumption of indif- 
ference, “ do you not approve of my action ?” 

Challice hesitated. He was not prepared to answer 
so pointed a question without due reflection. 

“ I think you may live to regret it,” he said, avert- 
ing his eyes. 

‘‘ My friend,” said Mrs. Ingraham, with much 
earnestness, “I am at heart a true Rommany, and 
the welfare of my race is dear to me above all else. 
The future Mother of the Gales must be wise and 
judicious. I may be neither, but at least I have a 
due appreciation of the obligations involved. Among 
the many here, who can hope to select one wmman 
with even such barren qualiflcations ? It is not wise 
to trust to chance in so important a matter. By such 
a loose course the power may be placed in weak and 
unscrupulous hands. Mine may be the first, but you 


180 


THE NAMELESS CITY 


know they are not the latter. Wishing to avert so 
great a disaster, I have spoken falsely; but then, re- 
member the Jesuit motto, ‘ The end justifies the 
means.’ And, after all,” she continued, smiling, “ I 
speak honestly. The falsehood of to-day will be the 
truth of to-morrow.” 

Evidently you have made up your mind to this 
course,” said he, a trifle ill-humoredly, “ and, I pre- 
sume, intend to read the name inscribed on the pyra- 
mid stone.” 

This very night. I must climb to the apex my- 
self and read it, since no other eye but mine may 
rest on the characters.” 

“ It may be a more difficult task than you think,” 
he objected. 

‘‘ Of that I do not know. But the difficulties can- 
not be insuperable. I am only sure of one thing, 
that to-night I seek for the hidden name of Egypt.” 

And thus be condemned forever to this lament- 
able exile,” said he, impetuously. “It is a moral sui- 
cide. The life of a galley-slave were better. Surely 
you cannot contemplate with calmness so hideous an 
existence. You are by birth a gypsy, but your up- 
bringing has been surrounded with every luxury. 
With such gentle rearing, with your wealth, beauty, 
passion for travel, to dwell here, where all are useless; 
Isiiia, you must see that such a thing is impossible.” 

Deaf to his pleading, Mrs. Ingraham shook her 


VICTIS 


181 


head with an irrepressible sigh. She felt in her heart 
how great was the proposed renunciation. 

“ I surrender all these,” said she, “ so that I benefit 
my race.” 

‘‘Then I stay with you !” declared Challice, reck- 
lessly. 

“ You ? Ah ! no. A man is not of so self-sacrific- 
ing a nature.” 

“ I tell you I stay here,” he replied, doggedly. “My 
life is bound up in yours. Marry me, and I remain 
by your side till death.” 

“ I would not put your devotion to so severe a 
test.” 

“ Say the truth,” cried Challice, roughly releas- 
ing the hand he had seized. “ You do not desire 
the marriage.” 

“You know better than that,” she answered, with 
gentle reproach. “ I love you dearly, and wish to be- 
come your wife. Were we now in England I might, 
indeed, reject your suit for reasons which now,” said 
she, “ are futile. But should you elect to stay in this 
city of the Cales — ” 

“You will be my wife?” 

“ Not your wife,” she corrected, pointedly, “ but 
your romi. Ah ! make no objections to such a term. 
We are Kommany, yon and I. We marry according 
to gypsy law. It is as sacred a bond in my eyes, and 
should be in yours, as the ceremony of the church. 


182 


THE NAMELESS CITY 


While in gjpsy-land, no rom would forsake his roini, 
or would dare to do so.” 

“No husband would care to with such a wife 
as you,” said Challice, folding her to his breast. 
“Marry me as you choose — Gentile or Rommany 
bonds, either are sacred in my eyes so that they 
bind me to you. Let us, then, become rom and 
romi, stay here, and rule over the Gales. I, for 
one, shall never regret it.” 

“How good you are!” she said, overcome by this 
great love, and let her head sink on his shoulder. 
They sealed the pact with a kiss, and remained 
locked in each other’s arms for some moments. An 
elfish laugh resounded through the cave, and Mrs. 
Ingraham sprang away from his embrace. The laugh 
was repeated. 

“Pepa!” cried the lovers, startled out of all self- 
control. 

She leaned against the door-post, surveying them 
with malicious delight. This w’as no spectre of the 
tomb, but a living woman. As brilliant, as beauti- 
ful, as evil as of yore, Pepa smiled in the sunlight. 
Exulting in her triumphant trickery, she over- 
whelmed the astonished lovers with mocking laugh- 
ter and ironical speech. 

“ It is merrier to see me alive than dead,” said she. 
“ Oh, well I guess the joy of your hearts at this resur- 
rection ! ‘Alas ! alas !’ cried you, ‘ Pepa has perished 


VICTIS 


18B 


through her own folly!’ But be comforted — be 
not inconsolable. Pepa is not dead ; she lives still 
to gladden her friends, and become Mother of the 
Gales.” 

‘‘ But you took poison ?” stammered Challice. 

“ Ho ! ho 1” laughed Pepa, jeeringly. “ Did you 
think such foolishness was truth ? No, my simple 
one, I drank no poison.” 

Goliath saw you lying dead.” 

“ Goliath saw me lying asleep,” she retorted, coolly. 
“ Dead I was not, else I scarce now would bask in 
your smiles ” — this last, with irony. 

“I understand,” said Mrs. Ingraham, slowly, “your 
drinking out of that golden cup, your pallor, your 
hesitation, your despair, all these were but portions 
of a well-played comedy.” 

“ It is true, my sister. I tricked Jara (may her soul 
burn I). She thought I drank death, when she her- 
self had the fatal draught at her lips. The wine in 
the golden cup was harmless, therefore did I present 
it to the Mother (earth lie heavy on her bones !). 
She, as I well knew, would ask for the silver cup, 
thinking I designed it for myself. In the silver 
goblet was the poison, and to Jara (curses on her 
memory !) did I give it with tears and sighings. She 
drank, and died. I drained the golden cup, and lived 
— live still, to rule in her place.” 

“ You fiend !” cried Challice, seeing at a glance the 


184 


THE NAMELESS CITY 


ingenuity of the trick. “ You calculated on Jara re- 
fusing the first cup.’^ 

And so gave her the second, my Englishman. I 
fell not into her trap, but she into mine. Ha ! ha !” 
she screamed, gleefully, “ it was rare sport seeing how 
readily she took the poison. Arromali, there is no 
Cale so wise as Pepa.” 

You are not wise now,” flashed out Mrs. In- 
graham, stung by this shameless glee. “ To confess 
so great a crime to those who love you not is mere 
foolishness.” 

And with this she made for the door. Pepa not 
only abstained from action, but also stood aside to 
let her pass. As their dresses touched Pepa asked a 
question in a tone of gay banter. 

‘‘Whither go you, my sister^” 

“To The Appointed Three.” 

“ And your purpose, dear one?” 

“ To reveal your treachery.” 

“ A useless task, my sister. Who will believe 
your story? Hot The Appointed Three. Were 
they not present when I gave the golden cup to Jara 
(ugly dead witch!)? Did they not see Jara re- 
fuse the proffered goblet and demand the other? 
How then can they blame Pepa for the draught 
which Jara (may her soul perish!) drank so will- 
ingly ?” 

“ Oh, as to that,” said Mrs. Ingraham, quietly, “ I 


VICTIS 


185 


shall give your explanation, and our brother here 
shall bear witness to the truth.” 

“ Aye, that I shall,” he said, surveying Pepa with 
a look of aversion. 

The crafty gypsy merely shrugged her shoulders 
and unfurled a black fan. The threat had no ter- 
rors for her. 

“ Go and tell all, sister, if it so pleases you,” said 
she, scornfully. ‘‘I care not what tales you bear. 
All you say I can deny. Besides,” she added, art- 
fully, “who will believe this against the new 
Mother V 

“You are not our Mother, Pepa, and never shall 
be. You know not the name !” 

“ True enough. 1 have come to ask it !” 

Mrs. Ingraham laughed at the effrontery of the 
woman. This last request was too shameless to be 
taken seriously. 

“ Do you think I shall tell it to you ?” 

“ I am sure of it,” answered Pepa, complacently, 
still waving her fan. 

Making no answer, Mrs. Ingraham surveyed her 
rival with a contemptuous smile. Then she turned 
towards Challice. 

“Kemain here, Lancelot, and watch this woman. 
I go to The Appointed Three, and shall return with 
men to arrest her.” 

As Mrs. Ingraham flitted out of the cavern, Pepa, 


186 


THE NAMELESS CITY 


attempting no pursuit, addressed herself to Challice 
with much eagerness. All her merriment was 
gone, and she now looked serious, anxious, men- 
acing. 

“Listen to me, my brother,” said she, rapidly. 
“ The Appointed Three are not in the Cavern of the 
Idols, but with my rom. With him they will stay 
till I tell them the name. You know it, do you 
not?” 

“Perhaps,” said Challice, ambiguously. By plead- 
ing ignorance he might weaken his position. 

“ Ah ! I was certain of it ! Tell it to me, and 
you leave this gorge a free man. Refuse, and I 
swear to hold you captive for the rest of your life.” 

“ I shall not tell you,” said Challice, resolutely. 
“ Your game is up, Pepa. In a few minutes Mrs. 
Ingraham will tell all to The Appointed Three, and 
render your schemes abortive.” 

“No! no !” said she, her face darkening. “They 
think I know the name. I have told them so, mean- 
ing to learn it from you or your rani in the mean- 
time. I must know it.” 

“ Mrs. Ingraham — ” 

“ She is now in the hands of Jativo — a prisoner.” 

“ Great heavens !” cried Challice, springing tow- 
ards the door. Before he could reach it Pepa whis- 
tled shrilly and clapped her hands. A dozen gypsies 
at once appeared. 


XJE VICTIS 


187 


‘‘Seize the rye, and place him in the Pyramid 
Cave,” she said, sharply. 

“You fiend!” said Challice, in despair, and strove 
to break through the throng. The next moment 
they had closed around him. He was overpowered, 
and carried away with the mocking laughter of 
Pepa still ringing in his ears. 


CHAPTER XIII 


THE CHASM 

In the darkness Challice lost count of time. But 
few hours had elapsed since his imprisonment, yet 
these, to his excited mind, stretched into centuries. 
Never before had he realized how slowly time 
could move for one distracted. His surroundings 
inflicted terrible suffering, and placed his soul on a 
mental rack. Scarce could he conceive the tremen- 
dous power of the other world to react on the den- 
izens of this. The Inquisition were less proliflc of 
torture. 

The close atmosphere, the palpable gloom, the 
sense of burial under the massy pyramid, were 
agonizing to his highly-strung nerves. Imagination 
played him strange tricks, and peopled the obscurity 
with undetinable horrors. This morbidity produced 
hallucinations so real, so vivid, that it was with 
considerable difficulty he persuaded himself of their 
non-existence. One ray of light would have dispelled 
the phantoms, but Pepa had robbed him of this con- 
solation, by ordering the removal of all torches. 
Hence, the murk air engendered these monstrous 


THE CHASM 


189 


figincDts of the brain. No man was braver than 
Challice before actual danger, but the combating of 
these chimeras terrorized his soul. But that his 
manhood forbade, he could have shrieked aloud. 

Latterly, with a sense of disgust at his own forget- 
fulness, he remembered the candelabra, and speedily 
had the lamps ablaze. The resultant illumination 
restored him to comparative cheerfulness. On all 
sides the gold and silver ornaments glittered with 
dim lustre, and invited attention to their tarnished 
splendors. Busy with his own thoughts he paid no 
attention to these useless gauds. For ten minutes, 
or thereabouts, he paced the vault to stretch his 
limbs, then, resuming a sitting position, gave him- 
self up to contemplation. Such retrospection was 
anything but pleasant. 

Naturally his first thouglit was of Mrs. Ingraham, 
and of the risks she ran while in her rival’s power. 
Well aware that Pepa would never pardon one so 
inimical to her interests, Challice dreaded lest she 
might remove by violence this obstacle from her 
path. She was in too desperate a condition to stick 
at trifies, and, he foresaw, would willingly sacrifice 
them both for her own gain. That they knew the 
city’s name had alone saved their lives, and there 
was no immediate danger while such remained un- 
told. When she acquired the desired knowledge, 
death would be their portion. Of this Challice was 


190 


THE NAMELESS CITY 


fully assured, as, after Jara’s untimely end, and bis 
own arrest, he no longer doubted the innate savagery 
of this woman. 

Such reflections did not tend to cheerfulness, and, 
with a vague idea of shaking them off, he again 
began to perambulate his prison. For the sake of 
having some sound in the stillness he soliloquized, 
and delivered his own thoughts, in his own voice, to 
his own ears. In his then state of mind the idea did 
not strike him as ludicrous. 

“ A clever woman is Pepa,” said he. “ In one way 
or another she has removed all hinderances — Jara is 
dead, and myself and Isaia helpless in her power. I 
should not wonder if she gained her point in the 
face of all obstaeles. But she can only achieve the 
position by learning the city’s name, and neither of 
us can reveal that of which we are ignorant. True, 
we can tell her where it is graven ” — here he looked 
upward. “ But, as it is our only safeguard against 
this tigress, we must make terms before revelation.” 

A jewelled crucifix clattering to the ground turned 
his thoughts into another channel. 

“ How useless are those costly trifles to one in my 
position,” he reflected, picking it up. I would give 
all the spoils of this Aladdin’s cave for freedom. 
Gold and silver, gems, and blood-stained diadems. 
What crimes do they not represent, yet, withal, can- 
not bring me the desire of my heart.” 


THE CHASM 


191 


The imperious demands of appetite now began to 
make themselves felt. It was useless to search the 
vault for food and drink, as he well knew neither 
would be found. Yet, as Pepa would undoubtedly 
visit him for the purpose of extorting the name, he 
hoped she might bring provisions with her. It 
would be false policy on her part to starve one from 
whom she thought to gain information of vital im- 
portance. 

“ At present,” said Challice, grimly, “ she is no 
doubt doing her best to force Isaia into confession. 
A useless task if I know anything of a jealous wom- 
an’s obstinacy. Finding she can gain nothing in 
that quarter, a visit will be paid to me. Likewise 
useless. I shall hold my peace. Nothing but Isaia’s 
permission will compel my yielding.” 

Thus thinking, he took one of the lamps and clam- 
bered up the staircase in the vain hope of escape. As 
might have been expected, Pepa was too clever for 
negligence, and he found the stone firmly fixed in its 
place. In spite of the most rigorous examination with 
the lamp, he was unable to find any spring where- 
by to work the pivot, and so, in despair, returned. 
Scarcely had he refixed the lamp in its branch, when 
a breath of keen air swept into the vault. 

“Here comes my jailer,” said he, with a feeling of 
relief; “ now to make the best possible terms for my- 
self and Isaia.” 


192 


THE NAMELESS CITY 


Pepa expressed some surprise at the unwonted il- 
lumination of the vault, and complimented Challice, 
with many sneers, on his excellent memory. 

‘‘JSTo doubt you were here with the Mother (may she 
burn !),” observed Pepa, “ and recollected the lamps.” 

“You are about right, my dear,” said Challice, 
quietly. “But there are more important things than 
lamps and irony ; food, for instance.” 

“ I thought of that, senor. Here is wine, bread, 
and a jar of olives You see,” she added, setting them 
down on the floor, “ that I do not intend to starve you.” 

“I give you credit for more wisdom. Well, how 
long do you intend to keep me here in this hole ? 
It is unpleasant and unhealthy. A change of air 
would be beneficial.” 

Bather confounded by this cool behavior, Pepa 
stared at her prisoner in surprise, and ultimately de- 
livered herself of a Continental truism. 

“ All Englishmen are mad,” said she, hitching up 
her shoulders. “ They never know when they are 
in danger.” 

“Am I in danger?” asked Challice, attacking the 
food with keen appetite. Pepa stamped her foot. 
It was not pleasant to be treated in so flippant a 
manner by one whom she thought to overawe. Her 
dignity was made mock of, and this she by no 
means relished. 

“ Of course you are in danger,” she declared, vi- 


THE CHASM 


193 


ciously ; “ I could have your throat cut this very 
minute.” 

“I have no doubt of it, Pepa. But let me finish my 
supper first. You can have no idea how hungry I am.” 

“Bah!” said Pepa, lighting a cigarette. “You are 
a fine actor, my Englishman.* You pretend indiffer- 
ence, while shaking in your shoes at the sight of me.” 

“ What, at the sight of so pretty a face?” retorted 
Challice, in a joking manner. “ Ah, you credit me 
with such bad taste. I declare,” he continued, lift- 
ing up the flask, “ that you came as an angel, especial- 
ly when I saw you carried these provisions. , Your 
health, my pretty one, and may you reap the reward 
of your actions,” 

“What reward is that?” asked Pepa, anxiously. 

Challice leaned over, and drew his hand across her 
throat. • 

“ The same reward you propose to give me,” said 
he, with forced laughter. He was acting a part, 
and acting it well, but in his Jieart he dreaded the 
capricious temper of the young savage. This as- 
sumed nonchalance was the best possible method in 
which to treat her, and the truth of this became ap- 
parent by the tenor of her next remark. 

“ You are a brave man, my brother,” she said, with 
genuine admiration. “ I would you were my rom 
in place of Jativo.” 

“ He is brave also, I think.” 

13 




194 


THE NAMELESS CITY 


He is a bear !” she retorted, sharply. But let 
him not tax my patience too much, else he may 
never reign as Pharaoh.” 

‘‘Hot unless you reign as Queen.” 

“ I am Queen !” 

“Without knowing the hidden name! That is 
against Kommany law.” 

“ There is nothing unlawful about it,” snapped 
Pepa, whose temper was not improved by recent 
events, “ I know the name of Egypt.” 

Intuitively Challice guessed that she was lying, 
but showed no signs of so uncomplimentary an opin- 
ion by his expression. Diplomacy was everything 
at this moment. 

“ I congratulate you,” said he, with grave irony. 
“ And who gave you the information ?” 

“ Your rani.” 

With pretended indifference, Challice ostentatious- 
ly numbered his fingers. 

“What are you doing?” she demanded, crossly. 

“ Counting the number of hours it has taken Mrs. 
Ingraham to become your friend.” 

“ She is not my friend.” 

“ Then she never told you the name.” 

“ I forced it out of her,” declared Pepa, backing 
up one lie with another. 

“Then you did a very clever thing. But, of 
course, I know you can work miracles.” 


THE CHASM 


195 


^‘You don’t believe me,” she demanded, nettled 
by such manifest satire. 

‘‘l!^ot in the least,” retorted Challice, coolly ; “you 
say Mrs. Ingraham told you the name, thinking I am 
fool enough to blurt it out. Is that not so, dear one ?” 

Pepa laughed, and nodded. Charmed with this 
new mood of her prisoner, she half fell in love with 
him on the spot. Unfortunately, Mrs. Ingraham, on 
the one hand, and Jativo, on the other, prevented 
this half from becoming a whole. 

“ You are more agreeable now than you ever were. 
Take a cigarette, my gray owl, and let us talk of 
serious matters.” 

Kejecting the cigarette held out between her brown 
fingers, Challice selected one from his own case. It 
was as well to emphasize his distrust of her proffered 
friendship. 

“I can’t trust you, Pepa,” he said, striking a match, 
“your gifts are dangerous. Tricks, such as you 
played on Jara, are not to my taste. They end so 
unpleasantly.” 

“ Foolish creature ! ” answered Pepa, tossing the 
cigarette on the floor. “I never think of killing 
you. At least,” she added, with engaging candor, 
“ not until you tell me the name.” 

“ Your coolness is very refreshing, Pepa. But, as 
my life depends upon strict silence, you may be cer- 
tain I sha’n’t speak.” 


196 


THE NAMELESS CITY 


The gypsy’s face darkened. She wearied of the 
comedy, and resolved to bring it to an abrupt con- 
clusion. Her fencing came to an end. 

“ Enough of this ! ” she said, imperiously, “ I in- 
sist upon you telling me the name.” 

‘‘ That I absolutely decline to do.” 

“ The consequences may be dangerous.” 

Let them be dangerous.” 

“I shall kill your rani before your eyes.” 

“ Nonsense ! ” retorted Challice, with a lightness he 
was far from feeling, “you know well enough that 
you dare not do such a thing.” 

“ Dare not ! ” shrieked Pepa, springing up like a 
young tigress — “ dare not ! ” 

“ No, dare not,” he repeated, defiantly. “ The Ap- 
pointed Three wmuld not permit it.” 

“ The Appointed Three,” sneered Pepa, derisively, 
snapping her fingers; “they cannot control my ac- 
tions. They are in my power ! I can do as I choose 
with them, and with you, also,” she added, menacingly. 
“ Oh, never fear, my Englishman, Pepa knows what 
she knows. Your rani is imprisoned in my cave. 
The English Rommany has been sent away from the 
valley. Our brethren think I know the sacred name, 
and I rule supreme in this place.” 

Challice simply shrugged his shoulders, and walked 
to the other end of the cave. In sullen silence Pepa 
waited his return. She was not prepared to meet 


THE CHASM 


197 


with so stubborn a resistance, and, utterly nonplussed, 
could think of no further wiles. When Challice re- 
turned he addressed her seriously. 

‘‘ Listen to me, Pepa,’’ said he, “ neither myself 
nor Mrs. Ingraham desire to be further mixed up 
with your intrigues. Let us leave this gorge, and 
then you can act as you please.” 

‘‘I shall not let you go until the hidden name is 
revealed.” 

“ If Mrs. Ingraham gives me permission I will re- 
veal it.” 

“ But she won’t give permission !” said Pepa, fool- 
ishly outspoken. 

“ In that case I must hold my tongue,” he unhesi- 
tatingly declared. 

Aware of her folly, Pepa bit her lip and considered. 
Then she made a concession. 

“ Come with me, rye, and see the rani. When 
together, I may succeed in bringing both to rea- 
son.” 

“ Are you not afraid I should run away ?” asked 
Challice, as they went up the steps. 

“Not at all,” retorted Pepa, “the Cavern of the 
Idols is guarded. Only by that way could you es- 
cape. Besides,” she continued, wisely, “ you would 
not depart without the rani.” 

“ Little witch, how well you know me.” 

They emerged from the pyramid into the full glory 


198 


THE NAMELESS CITY 


of the moonshine. High in the sky rode the planet, 
revealing clearly the naked deformities of the gorge. 
Midway between pyramid and chasm Pepa stopped 
abruptly, much to the surprise of Challice. He was 
about to ask her reason for this halt, when his arms 
were seized from behind, and he found himself help- 
less in the grip of two stalwart gypsies. Jativo 
glided like a shadow to the side of Pepa, and to- 
gether they laughed loudly at the Englishman’s 
plight. 

“ Ah, you Jezebel !” cried Challice, furious at 
such trickery, “ you have broken your promise.” 

I never intended to keep it,” she retorted, “your 
dear one you shall not see in this life.” 

“ What do yon mean ?” asked he, seized with ap- 
prehension, “ if Mrs. Ing — ” 

“ Oh, she is well, senor ! In my cave I have safely 
bestowed her. But I did not mean you to come to- 
gether. Ho ! I knew you would leave the pyramid 
at my offer, and so trouble would be avoided. How 
you are here, I shall have you dropped into yonder 
chasm unless you reveal the secret.” 

The blood ran cold in his veins at this speech, and 
he looked round for succor. Ho one was in sight 
save the four Eommanys. He was helpless, and, for 
the moment, thought to yield to superior force, and 
thus save his life. But when he reflected that on si- 
lence depended Mrs. Ingraham’s life, he made up his 


THE CHASM 


199 


mind to secrecy. If he died she, possessed solely of 
such knowledge, might hold her own against Pepa. 

“ You dare not do it he declared, struggling with 
his captors. 

“ 1 dare anything,^’ said Pepa, dauntlessly. “ Con- 
sent to reveal the secret and you are free. Kefuse, 
and you die this minute.” 

“ You dare not !” repeated Challice. 

F or answer, Pepa held up her finger. At once 
the gypsies dragged Challice to the verge of that 
awful chasm. In the moonlight the water sparkled 
like a gray snake shot downward in solid bulk, and 
from the depths arose a chill, white spray. Down 
into the abyss slanted the rays of silver, half revealing 
the misty horrors. Tottering on the extreme edge, 
Challice felt that his last hour had come, and pre- 
pared to meet death bravely. 

Speak !” said the pitiless voice of the gypsy be- 
hind him. 

“No!” he muttered, hoarsely, “no! no!” 

The next moment he was suspended over the 
abyss. Closing his eyes, he expected every instant 
to be dropped into the boiling cauldron. A century 
of agony was contained in that second. Through 
the roar of the water he heard a fierce exclamation of 
rage from Pepa, and was drawn back to firm earth. 
The revulsion was so great that he sank fainting to 
the ground. 


200 


THE NAMELESS CITY 


These mules of English,” growled Jativo, hold- 
ing a brandy-flask to the mouth of the almost un- 
conscious man, “ they die sooner than give in. What 
is to be done next, my romi 

‘‘There is nothing to be done at present,” said 
Pepa, deeply disappointed, “ save to place him again 
in prison. You, Lopez and Pafael, can depart. I 
shall see that the Busnee is safe.” 

The two gypsies departed without remark, and Chal- 
lice sat up to And himself alone with his enemies. 
Jativo scowled flercely as he arose to his feet, but Pepa 
burst out laughing, and clapped him on the shoulder. 

“ Ah, how I love a brave man !” said she ; “ did 
you not think your grave gaped ?” 

“ I think you are an incarnate fiend,” said Challice, 
with cold fury ; “ why do you torture me like this ?” 

“ To make you tell the name.” 

“ I shall not do it !” he declared, “ if I did not re- 
veal it when hanging over those awful depths, how 
much less shall I do so now ?” 

Pepa looked at him with unwilling admiration, and 
turning towards Jativo, addressed some words to 
him in Rommany. The blacksmith responded with a 
furious gesture of dissent, and walked to the edge 
of the chasm. Pepa looked after him with an evil 
smile, then composed her features to a more amiable 
expression, and advanced towards Challice. 

“My roin will not let you see the rani,” said she; 


THE CHASM 


201 


“to-morrow, however, the funeral of Jara (curses 
on her memory !) takes place, and you shall be 
present. It may be that your rani is there. If so, 
persuade her to reveal all. Then you can go free.’’ 

“Very good,” answered Challice; “then I shall 
return to my prison.” 

“ One moment,” observed Pepa, “ I shall take you 
there, blit first must speak to my rora.” 

With delicate steps she stole behind the uncon- 
scious Jativo. Challice thought she was about to 
speak, when, to his horror, she put out her hand and 
thrust the man into the chasm. With a cry of 
mingled rage and terror Jativo toppled into the 
abyss, and then there was no sound save the roaring 
of the torrent. Pepa turned on her heel and swung 
back to Challice. There was no vestige of regret 
discernible on her face. 

“Are you a fiend of hell ?” he gasped, overcome by 
the horror of this tragedy. ^ 

“I am a woman whom he struck thrice,” she re- 
plied, in a sombre tone; “I vowed to be even with 
him, and even I am.” 

“ I shall denounce you.” . 

“ Hot if you are wise,” said Pepa, quietly ; “ cry 
out, and I swear that you threw him in. Who will 
be believed, you or I ? Come,” she said, caressingly, 
“go down to the vault. To-morrow I shall learn the 
truth, if not from you, from the rani.” 


202 


THE NAMELESS CITY 


“Keep away, you murderess,” said Challice, retreat- 
ing as she advanced, “your hands are red with blood 
— the blood of your husband. I go willingly back to 
the vault, anywhere — anywhere from the presence of 
a she-Cain.” 

Pepa began to clap her hands and laugh loudly 
while, with disgust and horror, he fled to the pyr- 
amid and hurled himself down the staircase. His 
last glimpse was of the red witch dancing in the 
moonlight. 


CHAPTER XIV 


A EOYAL SEPULCHRE 

On regaining the vault, Challice (a willing pris- 
oner) threw himself down, but not to sleep. The 
incidents of the last twentj-four hours had proved 
sufficiently exciting, but that they should culminate 
in so terrible an episode proved almost too much for 
his powers of endurance. Maddened by the thought 
of losing all that she had so hardly won, Pepa would 
hesitate at no crime likely to further her interests. 
Jara stood in her way, and had forthwith been cut 
off with devilish ingenuity; Jativo proved restive, 
and he also had paid for it with his life. Pepa, a 
woman without a conscience, a most immoral wom- 
an, felt no remorse for such criminality. Kather 
did she congratulate herself on thus clearing the 
way for the speedy realization of her hopes. She 
was scarcely human when her self-interest was at 
stake. 

Despite all cogitation, Challice was unable to guess 
her reason for sparing him at the eleventh hour. One 
motion of her head, and he had surely been hurled 
into that awful gulf. Were he thus disposed of, she 


204 


THE NAMELESS CITY 


had still Mrs. Ingraham on whom to fall back for 
information. But for some inexplicable reason she 
chose to spare his life and admire his courage. This 
was gratifying, yet he felt uneasy. His safety was 
not altogether assured, and, unless he or Isaia com- 
plied with her demands, it was probable she would 
exercise the last act of authority and have them 
slain. 

Thus thinking, he fell into a slumber, broken by 
visions and vague dreams. These latter, engendered 
by waking circumstances, took the form of gloomy 
forecasts. Ever in such nightmares he fled helpless 
before Pepa; ever she threatened him with death, 
and ever, by some shadow miracle, he thwarted her 
aim. . This last hint of what might be cheered him 
not a little, as it pointed to a possible escape from 
the valley and his malignant enemy. Towards dawn 
he became conscious of a red light dancing before 
his eyes, and opened them to see Pepa bending over 
him with a torch. For the flrst time she looked 
anxious and haggard. 

“ Up, my Englishman,” said she, hurriedly ; “ the 
morn breaks eastward, and there is much to do. At 
noon we lay Jara (vile witch and mother of witches !) 
in her tomb. Even now our brethren hew the sepul- 
chre. To-night The Appointed Three hope to hear 
the city’s name from my lips, so that they may pro- 
claim me Queen ere they join the dead.” 


A ROYAL SEPULCHRE 


205 


Challice, who^had heard but half this speech, sat up, 
yawned, and rubbed his eyes. Angry at such indif- 
ference, Pepa shook him with nervous energy. 

‘‘ Do you hear me, animal ? To-night I must know 
the name.’’ 

Indeed!” said Challice, in nowise angered by her 
epithets. “ And what has that to do with me ?” 

‘‘It has everything to do with you,” she said, 
with fiery earnestness; “with you — with me — with 
the rani. Tell me the name revealed to you by 
Jara.” 

“ How can I,” returned he, petulantly, “ when I am 
ignorant of it?” 

Pepa’s beautiful features became distorted with 
rage and dismay. On such an answer she had not 
counted. Dashing the torch on the ground, and 
thereby plunging them in utter gloom, she seized 
him by the wrist. 

“ You lie ! you lie ! Tell me the name 1” 

“ I do not lie. The name is unknown to me.” 

“ I implore ! I command 1 I entreat 1” said she, 
running through the gamut of expressions with fever- 
ish rapidity. 

“ I cannot possibly tell you that of which I am 
ignorant.” 

“ Does your rani know it ?” 

“Ho; Jara made no revelation before she died. 
You have to thank yourself for such an omission.” 


206 


THE NAMELESS CITY 


With a furious gesture she thrust him away. De- 
fenceless in the darkness, he quite expected to receive 
a knife in his ribs. Preferring to die above ground, 
if at all, he sought the staircase, and, to his surprise, 
jostled against Pepa, who was also making for the 
upper air. As he brushed past her she seized him, 
and dragged him up the steps. 

‘‘Outside! outside!” she muttered, rapidly. “Oh, 
fool ! fool ! you must know — she must know. Pll 
force your speech by torture and death.” 

By this time they were in the open air, under the 
roseate sky of dawn. No human being was astir in 
the Cup, yet through the roaring water Challice heard 
the metallic rattle of pick and shovel and mattock. 
The gypsies were preparing the tomb of Jara, but 
where, he knew not. He had but scant leisure to 
comment on the invisibility of the workers, for Pepa 
stamped before him with furious gestures. She 
screamed rather than asked questions. 

“ Is it true what you say ?” 

“ Perfectly true,” answered Challice, steadily fac- * 
ing the tempest. 

“ You do not know the name ?” 

“No!” 

“ Let me think ! let me think !” said Pepa, thrust- 
ing her hands into the loose masses of her hair. “ If 
this be so, there is yet one way. Jara knew I was 
dangerous, and would not have risked failure. This 


A KOYAL SEPULCHRE 


207 


was provided against. Yes ! yes ! The Mother talked 
in my hearing of a stone — a stone,” she added, catch- 
ing a conscious look on the face of her listener. 
“ Ah ! you know that stone 

“ Yes,” said he, boldly ; “ I know the stone.” 

She briskly clapped her hands, pressed closely to 
his side, and hung on his arm. 

“ Ah ! what joy ! I deemed all was lost, but it is 
not so. You know where I can find the stone grav- 
en with the name. Come, my English lord, tell me 
where it is hidden !” 

“ I decline to do so without Mrs. Ingraham’s per- 
mission.” 

‘‘You must! I command your obedience.” 

“ Oh, stop this nonsense 1” he said, roughly shaking 
her off. “ I refused last night, I refuse now. What 
are you doing?” he cried, falling back a step as 
she threw herself on her knees. “Do not plead 
to—” 

“I am not pleading,” she interrupted, “blind one; 
I consult the cards.” 

With a dexterity begotten by long practice she 
shuffled and spread out the pack, muttering darkly 
to herself, yet not so low but that Challice could 
hear her, she ran over the cards with delicate taps 
of her finger-tips. 

“No more deaths,” said she, throwing back her 
loose hair , “ two deaths, but no more. Here I sit 


208 


THE NAMELESS CITY 


queen— difficulties in the way. It comes from a 
man through a woman (a cursed one!) — fear and 
terror — danger, but not death. A woman works it 
— if not this one, that one. Six hours, and triumph 
in the seventh. Ah ! I must win ! Stars and cards, 
they speak truly.” 

The next moment she swept the cards into her 
pocket, jumped up smiling, and, without vouchsafing 
a word to the astonished Englishman, rapidly ran 
away. He, much perplexed by this strange conduct, 
and unable to attach any meaning to these (as he 
thought) incoherent words, looked after the flying 
figure with a frown. 

“ On what mischief is she now bent ?” he thought, 
and with some cause. “A woman — a woman! 
That must be Isaia. I wish I could find her,” add- 
ed he, glancing disconsolately around. “ She is 
shut up in one of these confounded caves, no doubt. 
Halloo, there !” 

This last was directed at Zargo, who, at that mo- 
ment appeared round the corner of the pyramid. 
The puny dwarf showed no disposition to stop, but 
rather increased his speed. Challice, with a few 
strides of his long legs, soon overtook the pigmy, 
who, thus compelled to pause, did so sulkily. 

‘^How, Zargo,” said Challice, sharply, in the 
Spanish tongue, “tell me the whereabouts of Mrs. 
Ingraham.” 


A EOYAL SEPULCHRE 


209 


“ I don’t know, senor.” 

That is untrue, you monkey.” 

He followed up the remark by a smart shaking, 
whereat Zargo became more amenable to reason. 
Devoted as he was to Pepa, it did not chime in with 
his ideas to answer questions detrimental to her in- 
terests ; but he saw that Challice was not to be trifled 
with, and so, with much whimpering, gave the de- 
sired information. 

“ The rani is in Jativo’s cave.” 

“ Can you not take me to her ?” 

Hot for the wealth of all the Moors,” protested 
the trembling Zargo. ‘‘Pepa is also there, and would 
surely slay me.” 

Hot desirous of meeting again with Pepa until he 
had thought of some plan whereby to thwart her 
scheming, Challice resolved to postpone his visit to 
Mrs. Ingraham for the present. Meanwhile he plied 
Zargo with questions. 

“ Where is Goliath Hicks ?” 

“ He has left Egypt, senor. Pepa sent him to 
Palma, and he dare not return without permission.” 

“My best friend gone,” thought Challice. “I 
must fight single-handed.” Then, addressing a final 
question to Zargo, “What about Jativo?” said he. 

“ He has disappeared,” said the dwarf, waxing 
voluble on this point; “no one has seen him since 
last night. Know you where he is, senor?” 

14 


210 


THE NAMELESS CITY 


“I think Pepa can best answer that question.” 

‘‘Indeed, no,” replied Zargo, in perfect good faith. 
“Pepa weeps because he is absent. To-night she 
will be proclaimed Mother of the Gales, and wants 
her rom to stand beside her as Pharaoh. I would 
he could be found !” 

Challice laughed grimly at the idea of this widow’s 
comedy performed by Pepa. For one instant he was 
on the point of narrating the tragedy, but, remember- 
ing how Pepa threatened to turn the tables, he held 
his peace. It was unwise to involve himself in new 
troubles before he extricated himself from the old ; 
therefore he contented himself with an ambiguous 
reply, 

“Look in the chasm, my lad,” said he, meaningly; 
after which he stalked away, leaving the dwarf con- 
siderably bewildered by such unintelligibility. 

Thus enlightened as to what had transpired during 
his imprisonment, Challice sought his old cavern, 
there, if possible, to satisfy his appetite. The sharp 
breath of the morning made him hungry, and he 
was fortunate enough to find a sufiiciency of victuals 
for his wants. Afterwards he fell into a sound 
slumber, and arose, much refreshed, at noon. 

Unexpectedly, he was struck by the intense silence 
which prevailed. He missed some familiar sound, 
and could not for the moment think what was lack- 
ing. Kather bewildered by so unusual an experience. 


A ROYAL SEPULCHRE 


211 


he stepped into the sunshine and looked around. 
Astonishment held him spellbound, tongue-tied, as 
he saw what had occurred. A preternatural stillness 
brooded in the hollow. More astonishing still, the 
torrent had disappeared. 

In the face of this unaccountable occurrence he 
could do nothing but stare blankly at cliff and chasm. 
Where the torrent had slid so smoothly downward, 
appeared a ragged precipice of black rocks. Midway 
gaped an ugly hole, probably the entrance to some 
cavern. To the right of this he fancied a pathway 
wound deviously to the platform verging on the 
chasm. This arid cliff, displumed of herb and grass, 
unveiled by the misty water-fall, looked singularly 
forbidding in the crude sunlight. Eobbed of its 
sole charm the valley looked truly repulsive in its 
naked deformity. 

His attention was withdrawn from such lament- 
able contemplation by the sound of a low chuckle 
close at hand. Zargo, with malicious smiling, was 
peering up into his face. In deformity, the cliff and 
the dwarf were of apiece. 

“You wonder at that, senor,” said the dwarf, 
waving his hand towards where had been the water- 
fall. 

“Who could help wondering at it, Zargo. What 
has become of the torrent 

“Its course has been diverted for the moment. 


212 


THE NAMELESS CITY 


Did you not see our brethren toiling up there at 
dawn? They have turned aside the snow stream 
and it now pours down the eastern side of the mount- 
ain to astonish the peasants of the plain. There 
will be much talk of the devil city to-night, senor,” 
finished Zargo, with a chuckle. 

This information supplied a reason for the invisi- 
ble workmen of the dawn. High up the peak had 
the gypsies labored to change the course of the tor- 
rent. But for what reason ? Challice questioned his 
little companion. 

“It is for the burial of Jara,” answered Zargo. 
“ Yonder is the cave of our dead, where the Mothers 
of the Gales sit crowned and robed. To-day will 
Jara be placed therein, and then the veil of water 
once more will hide the sepulchre of queens.’’ 

“How do they take the body to the tomb, 
Zargo?” 

“ By yonder path. One man only can walk on it 
at a time. Two will go, before and behind the dead 
Mother. Her embalmed body will rest among the 
queens, and then — ” 

“And then the torrent will be restored to its 
accustomed channel.” 

“ No, senor. Not until The Appointed Three are 
placed by the Mother.” 

With a gesture of horror Challice turned his 
back on the dwarf. Only too well did he under- 


A KOYAL SEPULCHRE 


213 


stand the meaning of that last remark. The three 
unhappy men who knew the city’s name were to be 
slain for such knowledge, and would thus accompany 
Jara to the shades. There was a heathenish smack 
about the business which set Challice dreaming of 
Attila and his murderous funeral. Indeed, he 
wondered whether the obsequies of Jara might not 
be copied therefrom. What with diverted stream 
and immolated victims, '.there was more than one 
point in common between the two. 

Not without a certain amount of curiosity did he 
approach the chasm. A forbidding-looking gypsy 
guarded the path’s end so that none could desecrate 
the burial place of queens. Thus excluded from 
a nearer view, Challice, on the verge of the plat- 
form, strained his eyes into the tenebrous cavern. 
He thought he espied dim figures sitting therein. 
But this might have been fancy. Yet he could 
conceive an assemblage of dead women — crowned, 
sceptred, robed — aw^aiting in those dusky depths the 
sound of Gabriel’s trump. When their new sister 
joined them would they not rise and wave a mute 
welcome with fleshless arms? Well was it that the 
veil of water hid so lamentable a spectacle. The 
mere thought of it chilled the blood of the man 
standing in the strong sunlight. 

Ho longer softened by falling water or by rising 
spray, the chasm gaped like the funnel of a vol- 


214 


THE NAMELESS CITY 


cano. Jagged rocks set beyond the line of fall 
still retained their angularity of outline. More than 
half-way down on one of these Challice saw the 
shattered body of Jativo. With revulsion he drew 
back, and in doing so caught sight of Pepa standing 
some little distance away. She also was eying the 
human wreck, but with no expression of pity or re- 
morse. Evidently she regretted that it had not 
been sucked into the entrails of the mountain, so 
that all signs of the crime might disappear. As 
usual her egotism swamped all other considera- 
tions. 

While thus ruminating, she encountered the in- 
dignant glance of Challice, but, in nowise daunted 
by such plainly shown repugnance, drew close to his 
side, 

“ Is it not a pity,” said she, pointing towards the 
corpse with her chin, “ it will be seen by our breth- 
ren.” 

“ Yery probably,” answered Challice, coldly, “and 
what story do you propose to tell ?” 

“ I might say that you thrust my rom into the 
chasm.” 

“ Yes ; you might, but you will not do so.” 

“Why not?” 

“ For the very simple reason that you have not yet 
given up all hope of making me reveal the where- 
abouts of the graven stone.” 


A ROYAL SEPULCHRE 


215 


“ You are right, my brother, I will tell our breth- 
ren that Jativo fell in by accident. As to the graven 
stone, this afternoon you will tell all.” 

“ I don’t think so !” 

“ I do,” replied Pepa, with a confident smile. “ I 
have a way by which to make even you speak.” 

Ending this speech with a triumphant nod she 
vanished behind the pyramid ; Challice had no time 
to consider her meaning, for, as she disappeared, a 
wild chant arose in the distance. Hastening to the 
mouth of the street, he beheld a strange procession 
coming towards the hollow. It was the funeral 
cortege of Jara. 

The gypsies had assumed no sombre garments in 
token of mourning, and their gaudy dresses were 
somewhat out of keeping with the solemnity. A 
throng of women with dishevelled hair came first, 
beating their breasts and loudly wailing. After- 
wards the mummy of the old woman seated stiffly 
in a kind of open sedan chair borne by four men. 
The procession ended with files of silent men, and 
tailed off in scattered groups of children. Ho ob- 
sequies could have been simpler, yet the lamenta- 
tions of the women, the unnatural silence of the men, 
and the eastern character of face and garb, invested 
the whole with inexplicable fascination. 

As the sedan was borne past him, Challice, fiat- 
tened against the pyramid by the throng, bent 


216 


THE NAMELESS CITY 


forward to catch a last glimpse of his kinswoman. 
Swathed in yellow garments, decked with gems 
and gold, crowned with the rude silver diadem, 
there was something piteous about the spectacle. 
Preserved by the embalmer’s art, it was wonderful 
how life-like appeared the body. Jara looked as old 
and withered in her death as she had during her life, 
and, beyond that once bright eyes were dull, there 
was but scant difference in her appearance. 

On the verge of the abyss the sedan was set down 
so as to face the female mourners. These, kneeling 
in long lines, began with much wailing to declare the 
virtues of the deceased. When they finished their 
vociferations, Pepa, garbed as ever in red, made her 
appearance, to place bread and salt in the lap of the 
dead woman. Of what this was symbolical Challice 
could not guess. The ceremony over The Appoint- 
ed Three, still veiled from head to foot, tottered for- 
ward. A hush prevailed, and in tremulous voices 
they adjured the dead Queen to nominate her suc- 
cessor. 

‘‘ Ventriloquism,’’ murmured Challice, deeming 
this a new trick of Pepa’s. Yet he was wrong in 
such a supposition, as he speedily saw. Thrice did 
the trio make their demand, without receiving an- 
swer. Then they melted into the crowd, and the 
gypsies sprang to their feet. During the singing of 
melancholy strains the mummy was lifted out of the 


A ROYAL SEPTJLCHRE 


217 


sedan by two men, wlio bore it towards the clijff path- 
way. With infinite care, for the danger was great, 
they carried the dead woman along that tortuous 
track, and at length disappeared into the cavern. 
The mourners, swinging to and fro with rhythmical 
monotony, still sang lamentably, and clapped their 
hands. 

By this time the hollow was in semi-darkness, and 
already the sky scintillated with early stars. For 
some considerable period the gypsies wept and 
wailed, and contorted their bodies before that men- 
acing clifE, now shadowed with gloom. Challice 
grew tired of these wearisome proceedings, and 
would gladly have retreated to his cavern, but that 
he was closely wedged in by the surrounding throng. 

At length the two men who had carried the mum- 
my emerged from the cave, and climbed back to the 
platform. The wailing and beating of breasts 
ceased as they appeared, and the crowd seemed to 
be waiting for the happening of some event. The 
gloom increased, and still the mourners waited in 
silence. 

Suddenly a red light flared out of the cavern with 
infinite brilliancy. In the scarlet illumination ap- 
peared the circle of dead queens. Jara, sceptred 
and crowned, was there in her appointed place — 
the latest comer to that royal sepulchre. Only for 
a minute or so did the radiance last, then it died 


218 


THE NAMELESS CITY 


away as unexpectedly as it had come. For the 
moment the Kommany had seen their royal dead, 
and now the cliff, densely black, faced them again. 
After some shouting they chanted some wild hymn 
and dispersed. 

“They will meet at midnight,” whispered Pepa, 
at the elbow of Challice, “ to proclaim me queen.” 

Without commenting on this statement, Challice 
walked away. Pepa bounded after him and touched 
his arm. 

“ Come,” she said, persuasively, “ come to my 
cavern, where waits the rani to gladden your eyes.” 

Challice obeyed her at once. 


CHAPTER XV 


woman’s wit 

“ I SAID midnight,” remarked Pepa, when they 
reached the cave, “ but the true hour of my proclama- 
tion is nearer dawn. This,” she added, with some 
emphasis, “is to give you time to make up your 
mind.” 

“ Where is Mrs# Ingraham ?” asked Challice, ir- 
relevantly. 

“ She is close at hand, and will come forth when 
permitted. Before she appears, I have a confession 
to make. Will you not be seated, my brother?” 

Uneasy at her soft speech and languorous glances, 
Challice did as requested, but took up a position as 
far away from this charmer as the surrounding nar- 
rowness permitted. Light streamed duskily from a 
torch fastened to the wall, and they sat in a reddish, 
smoky twilight which, by its vagueness, magnified the 
extent of the cave. Pepa alone stood out flesh and 
blood amid this shadow world, and her low tones 
echoed like the buzzing of bees under the hollow roof. 
At times, rather to his dismay, she ostentatiously 
fingered the knife in her girdle, and evidently from 


220 


THE NAMELESS CITY 


her bent brows was set on some desperate resolution. 
Though at the outset she spoke more of love than of 
death, Challice felt by the stirring of his blood that 
some danger was in the air. During that interval he 
conceived only too well what must have been the 
sufferings of Damocles. 

“ What confession can you make likely to interest 
me said he, replying to her earlier remark ; “ there 
can be nothing in common between us.” 

“My brother,” murmured the gypsy, with canorous 
voice, “ I love you.” 

“I am sure you do,” replied Challice, ironically; 
“ your every act proves it. The inn, the road, the 
chasm — oh, I have to thank you for many evidences 
of your affection.” 

“Jest not with me,” she retorted, smiting her 
hands passionately together; “what I say is true, 
blind one. Yet at Palma I hated you, in the 
valley I hated you for coming between me and 
my ambition. I would have slain you, willingly, 
many times. Now your courage in danger has 
compelled my love. Said I not you carried bar 
lachi ? Ah, well I know it is no spell, but the daunt- 
less soul you bear that makes me adore you. There 
is now no obstacle to our union, for Jativo is dead. 
Make me your romi, my dear one, and reign by my 
side as Pharaoh.” 

“I thank you for your excellent opinion,” answered 


woman’s wit 


221 


Challice, with cold gravity, “but all obstacles are not 
yet removed. Jativo is dead, indeed, yet Mrs. Ingra- 
ham still lives. I cannot forget my love for her. 
Nor,” he added, pointedly — “ nor can I forget how 
your rom perished.” 

“He is dead; let him rest, and accursed be his 
memory,” she said, fiercely; “ no one struck Pepa but 
what she gave him death. I would destroy him twice 
.over had I the chance. As to your rani, she lives, 
but by my hand shall die, unless you tell me where I 
can find the graven stone.” 

“You fiend,” said Challice, well knowing she would 
be as good as her word ; “you would not dare to do 
this thing.” 

“ Would I not? Ah! you know better than that. 
But why love her ? Love me.” 

“Nothing would induce me to marry you,” de- 
clared Challice, ungallantly ; “ you have two deaths 
on your soul.” 

“ And I shall have the third if you yield not.” 

“ Let me see her ! let me see her !” he implored, 
ignoring this savage aspect. 

“Yes, you shall see, but neither touch her nor speak 
to her, unless you do as I bid you.” 

They were both on their feet by this time, facing 
one another with grim determination, he to see Mrs. 
Ingraham, she to prevent it. For one mad moment 
Challice thought to use physical force against Pepa, 


222 


THE NAMELESS CITY 


but, as he might have guessed, she had assistance 
near at hand. Even in the dusk she read such pur- 
pose in his eje, and, falling back a step, threw up 
her hand. The experience of the previous night was 
repeated, and Challice found himself again seized un- 
awares by two gypsies. While thus rendered helpless, 
Pepa taunted him, cruelly. 

“ A great man you are, my gray owl. Well did I 
know your intention. But, foolish one,” she con- 
tinued, changing her banter to menace, “ had you 
struck me, this knife would have been in your 
throat.” 

I did not intend to strike you,” responded Chal- 
lice, sullenly; “1 am no coward. My sole desire is 
to see Mrs. Ingraham.” 

“ And what then ?” 

“ I shall ask her to let me tell you that which you 
desire to know. If she consents and you gain the 
knowledge, promise that we shall go free.” 

“ Yes,” answered Pepa, promptly, “ tell all and 
you leave the gorge with your rani before dawn. 
Unless,” she added, dropping her voice, '‘unless you 
would stay beside one who loves you.” 

“ Such a thing is impossible,” said Challice, coldly ; 
“ and now, perhaps, you will ask these gentlemen to 
release me.” 

“ Not yet, my gray owl, I said you should see, but 
not touch, the rani.” 


woman’s wit 


223 


Wondering what could be the meaning of this 
enigmatic sentence, Challice remained passive in the 
grasp of his captors, while Pepa glided behind the 
gorge. In a few minutes she returned, half leading, 
half supporting Mrs. Ingraham. Challice saw the 
woman he loved distant but a few steps, yet could 
not approach nearer. He groaned aloud as he beheld 
her well-known gray travelling dress. The face in 
the shadow he was unable to see, but judged that 
the expression to be one of weary longing. 

Isaia !” he cried, trying to bfeak away from those 
who held him, “Isaia! Speak to me.” 

Mrs. Ingraham made no response, but sank in the 
seat to which she was conducted by Pepa. She 
neither started, nor lifted her head, nor gave the 
least sign that she was aware of his proximity. Yet 
she could hardly have failed to recognize the voice of 
her lover. With malignant joy Pepa noticed the 
pallor which overspread his face when he found him- 
self thus unheeded. 

“ She loves you no longer, my brother.” 

Paying no attention to her mockery, Challice 
again called on Mrs. Ingraham, but the limp figure 
tumbled at Pepa’s feet gave no sign of recog- 
nition — no sign of life. He began to suspect foul 
play. 

“ You have killed her. She is dead,” he declared, 
again vainly struggling. 


224 


THE NAMELESS CITY 


“She is not dead,” rejoined Pepa, coldly; “I have 
drugged her.” 

“O God, is this woman human?” said Challice, 
hoarsely. “Witch! why have you done this? If I 
were only free. Ah! if I were only free.” 

“How I can place my finger on your weak spot,” 
said the gypsy, noting his agitation with great 
satisfaction. “If not afraid for yourself, you at 
least dread lest some harm should come to your 
rani.” 

“You would not harm her,” he entreated. “Oh, 
Pepa, Pepa! if you have any womanly feeling — if 
your heart — ” 

“ It depends on yourself,” she impatiently in- 
terrupted. 

“ Depends upon me ?” 

“ You know my wish. Keveal the whereabouts of 
that stone and she lives; refuse as hitherto and she 
dies. How choose, my valiant English lord.” 

Challice uttered an ejaculation as her knife blade 
flashed in the crimson light. Scarcely could the two 
men hold him back. And Pepa mocked at his im- 
potent exertions to gain freedom. And all this 
time Mrs. Ingraham, comatose, helpless, lay on 
the ground. It seemed as though her end had 
surely come.” 

“ Spare her ! spare her !” repeated Challice, with 
labored breath. 


woman’s wit 


225 


“ You know my terms,” said Pepa, dropping the 
knife’s point so that it touched the skin; “tell me 
where I can find the stone, otherwise — ” 

Her significant play with the bared blade was too 
much for his endurance. With violent speed he gave 
the desired informq^tion. 

“The topmost stone of the pyramid — the apex!” 

Pepa straightened herself, and replaced the knife 
in her girdle. Taking no further notice of the sense- 
less woman, she sprang lightly towards the staircase. 
But a moment she paused beside Challice. 

“ If this be true, she lives. If false, I slay her and 
also you. Bring him along.” 

“ Let me stay beside her,” implored Challice. 

“Bring him along,” she repeated, stamping her 
foot; “he must be on the spot to point out the 
stone. To the pyramid at once.” And thither, de- 
spite all protestations, he was dragged. 

Across the sky drifted ragged clouds, which at 
times obscured the waning moon. Occasionally the 
planet shed feeble lustre on the hollow, but, for the 
most part, it was heavy with shadow. Ho human 
being was abroad, and their foot -falls echoed jar- 
ringly in the silence. Nothing could be more melan- 
choly than that midnight loneliness, and this was 
still further accentuated by the absence of the roar- 
ing torrent. The consequent hush had in its inaudi- 
bility a suggestion of the unseen. 

16 


226 


THE NAMELESS CITY 


Finding resistance useless, Cliallice submitted to 
be led towards the pyramid, and when there looked 
around for Pepa. She was close beside him, and 
hastily waving aside his custodians, whispered fierce- 
ly in his ear : 

“Say not why I wish to see. this stone, else you 
die.” 

Before he could reply, she fiitted away in the 
darkness. During her absence he attempted to con- 
verse with the gypsies, but they, disdainfully silent, 
spoke neither to him nor to each other. Left to his 
own thoughts, he wondered how Pepa would con- 
trive to scale the pyramid. He was not long in 
doubt, for Pepa speedily returned with two coils of 
rope and another Kommany. 

Anxious as he was about Mrs. Ingraham, he could 
not but take an interest in these strange proceed- 
ings. Aided by her companion she made a slipknot, 
and encircled with this the base of the pyramid. 
Over the opposite side of this she looped the other 
rope, and held it firmly while the man pulled hard 
at the slipknot. By this artifice it narrowed up the 
polished sides of the pyramid, and when nearly at the 
apex was restrained from slipping ofi altogether by 
the attached rope. Thus Pepa provided herself with 
means of ascent, and, with her knife between her 
teeth, soon scrambled up like a red insect. She 
remained at the summit for a considerable time, and. 


woman’s wit 


227 


as Challice judged by the sound, used her knife 
freely. Soon fragments of stone and mortar rattled 
down, and then Pepa herself descended, bearing a 
flat, black tile. 

Hastily lighting a torch she retreated to some dis- 
tance and examined her treasure. Challice thought 
he spied vermilion letters on the tile, but was too 
distant to distinguish accurately. In a few minutes 
she flung torch and tile into the chasm, after which 
she literally danced towards Challice. Success had 
crowned her efforts. 

“ You are free, my gray owl,” said she, brightly. 
“I know that which I desired to know.” 

On addressing a few words to the three gypsies 
they rapidly made off, bearing the ropes with them. 
Pepa, left alone with Challice, threw herself on his 
neck in a frenzy of delight. He strove to rid him- 
self of this unwelcome attention, but she refused to 
take the hint. 

“ I am Queen ! I am Queen !” she repeated, joy- 
ously. “The name was engraved on the tile, and 
now I can tell it to The Appointed Three. Ha ! ha ! 
Spoke not the cards truly? By a man through a 
woman. She in the cavern forced you to reveal the 
secret.” 

By main force Challice wrenched asunder the cling- 
ing arms, and thrust her away. That she should 
thus triumph over all obstacles was bitter indeed. 


228 


THE NAMELESS CITY 


“Now you have gained your ambition, perhaps 
you will let me go,” he said, savagely. 

“Go when you will, my brother.” 

“And Mrs. Ingraham?” 

“ Ah !” said Pepa, with an evil smile, “ she is still 
in my cavern.” 

“ Let me go to her at once.” 

“ One moment,” said she, laying a detaining hand 
on his arm. “ Will you not accept my offer, and be 
Pharaoh?” 

Challice shook his head, and pointed signifi- 
cantly towards the chasm. With her usual sharp- 
ness Pepa soon interpreted this pantomime, and 
smiled, cruelly. 

“ I hated him,” she declared, referring to the dead 
Jativo ; “ he was a brute and a coward. But you I 
love ! Ah, my dear one, make me your romi, and 
together we shall reign over the Gales.” 

“ No !” said Challice, curtly, and turned on his 
heel. She followed him. 

“ I will give you the treasures of Egypt.” 

“ No!” he reiterated. “ No !” 

“ My life ! my soul 1 all I have shall be yours,” 
cried Pepa, still trying to detain him. “Turn not 
from one who loves you dearly.” 

“ If you could give me the world, I should refuse 
your kisses,” said he, disdainfully. “I accept nothing 
at the hands of a murderess. All I desire is that you 


WOMAN^S WIT 


229 


should fulfil your promise. Lead me to Mrs. Ingra- 
ham.” 

The fire died out in Pepa’s eyes. She shrugged 
her shoulders, snapped her fingers, and made an 
attempt at laughter. 

“ Power and wealth I have, but love is denied 
me,” she said, with real pathos. “Eh ! what does it 
matter. That is the price I must pay to Fate. 
Come !” she added, moving away, “ let us seek the 
cavern.” 

“At last!” thought Challice, thankfully. “At 
last I shall see and speak with Isaia.” 

Up in the cavern still burned the torch, scattering 
misty lights on the woman lying on the ground. 
Pepa pointed thither, but Challice could not fathom 
the meaning of the jeering laughter which accom- 
panied the gesture. 

“ Here is your heart’s desire.” 

Falling on his knees he raised the unconscious 
head. A ray of light fell on the countenance, and 
he uttered a cry of astonishment. It was not Mrs. 
Ingraham. How he understood the meaning of her 
ironical merriment. 

“I have been tricked! duped!” he cried, furiously. 
“ What does it mean ?” 

“It means what you have just said,” replied Pepa. 
“You have been tricked, duped.” 

“ And Mrs. Ingraham ?” 


230 


THE NAMELESS CITY 


She is far away from Egypt. Since I saw her 
with you I have not set eyes on her. When she left 
your cave to denounce me to The Appointed Three 
she left the valley.” 

“It is false ! You would not have let her go.” 

“ That is true, my brother,” said Pepa, regretfully. 
“I should not have let her go had I known. But 
the English Rommany knew my purpose, and 
warned her. Then she fled from Egypt.” 

“ And left me to my fate,” he muttered. 

“ You can see from that how little she cares for 
you. Better make me your romi.” 

“There is some mystery about this,” said Challice, 
looking directly into her eyes. “ You are not tell- 
ing the truth.” 

“ By my soul I am, brother. I deemed she knew 
the name, and would have held her prisoner until 
she told it to me. But she escaped me, and you 
only could aid me. For that reason I did not 
have you cast into the chasm, I had none but 
you to reveal the name. So I tricked you by 
this,” she flnished, calmly pointing to the senseless 
woman. 

“ But the dress !” 

“ Ah, she brought many with her. I but made 
my sister yonder put on an English dress, and 
drugged her, lest she should betray me. The rest 
you know !” 


WOMAN S WIT 


231 


“ I congratulate you on your trick,” said Challice, 
with deep bitterness. ' 

“I congratulate myself,” she replied; ‘‘I now 
know the name.” 

[ “ And what is it ?” 

“That I dare not tell. At dawn I reveal it to 
The Appointed Three, and they proclaim me queen. 
Will you not stay for the ceremony ?” 

“ No !” he said, abruptly, walking out of the cave. 
“ I never wish to set eyes on you again.” 

Pepa called after him, but he made no answer. 
She did not attempt to follow him, and he regained 
his own cave unmolested. Here he packed up his 
belongings, intending to send for them by Goliath 
when he arrived at Palma. Then he walked down 
to the Cavern of Idols, with the purpose of leaving 
the hateful valley forever. 

Through the cavern he took his way, but at the 
massive gate, which closed the entrance, was stopped 
by two gypsies. These guardians of the portal eyed 
him in anything but a friendly manner. 

“Where go you, brother?” they asked, sus- 
piciously. 

“ To Palma,” he replied, curtly. “ Let me depart.” 

“No, brother! Until the new Mother is pro- 
claimed no Kommany may go hence.” 

“ By whose order ?” 

“By order of Pepa, our new Queen.” 


232 


THE NAMELESS CITY 


Cliallice stamped his foot with vexation. Afraid 
lest he should escape, Pepa had laid her plans excel- 
lently well. Even if he sought her again it was 
doubtful whether she would permit the gates to be 
opened. Now that she was in love with him, he 
dreaded lest in some fit of caprice she should keep 
him prisoner in the valley. On the whole he judged 
it wisest to acquiesce for the present. 

“ When can I leave Egypt he asked, anxiously. 

“When the new Queen is proclaimed at dawn. 
Then will the gates be open.” 

Disgusted at his futile attempt to escape, Challice 
returned slowly towards the platform fronting the 
cave. While there he thought he heard the sound 
of opening gates, but fully assured that return would 
be useless, remained where he was. There came the 
sound of voices, the swift running of feet, and, before 
he could turn round, a hand was placed on his 
shoulder. 

“Goliath!” 

“ My brother I” said the gypsy, earnestly. Ah 1 
my brother, you yet live 1” 


CHAPTER XVI 


THE CORONATION 

Anxiously questioned by Challice concerning the 
truth of Pepa’s story, Goliath forthwith narrated the 
events which led to the flight of Mrs. Ingraham. 
In the main they coincided fairly well. 

‘‘When I departed, iny brother,” he said, “I at 
once sought The Appointed Three, but learned from 
Zargo that they were shut up in the cavern of Jativo. 
Also I was informed that Pepa intended to slay the 
rani. On learning this, and knowing that Pepa 
would surely keep her word, I left the Cavern of 
Idols and ran back with the intention of warning 
her. While descending these steps I saw the rani 
coming down the street. She also was bent on see- 
ing The Appointed Three, and learned, as I, that 
they were in the power of Pepa. I told her of the 
danger in which she was placed, and entreated her 
to fly from Egypt. For some time she resisted, and 
wanted to return for your sake. I reminded her 
that Pepa was with you, and that by returning 
she would place herself in the hands of the red 
witch.” 


234 


THE NAMELESS CITY 


“You did not seem to consider that I also was in 
danger.’’ 

“ No, my brother, you were always safe. I knew 
Pepa loved you, and would save you from harm. 
But the rani she hated, and would have slain forth- 
with.” 

“There is some truth in that,” said Challice. 
“Well, Goliath, when she consented to fly with 
you did you have much difficulty in leaving 
Egypt ?” 

“ By no means,” replied the gypsy; “ at once I had 
the gates opened on the plea that the rani was ban- 
ished from Egypt by The Appointed Three. We 
departed for Palma, and for some time remained 
there in much anxiety. Neither she nor I, dreading 
the anger of Pepa, dared to return.” 

“ And why are you here now 

“Because there is no longer any reason for my 
staying in Palma. The rani has gone to England.” 

Challice uttered an ejaculation. That she should 
leave Majorca while his fate was yet in the balance 
touched him nearly. With some bitterness he 
mentioned this to Goliath, who forthwith found ex- 
cuses for such conduct. 

“You wrong the rani, brother. She was assured 
of your safety before she left the island.” 

“ And by whom 

“ By Zargo.” 


THE CORONATION 


235 


“You mistake,” said Challice, coldly, “Zargo has 
been here all the time.” 

“ Listen to me, brother,” said Goliath, laying his 
hand on the arm of the Englishman, “ when the rani 
was safe at Palma, I returned hither for news of 
you. As I said before, it was dangerous for me to 
enter Egypt and draw down the vengeance of Pepa, 
therefore I watched on the road for those of our 
brethren who might tell me of your fate. While 
there I met with Zargo and questioned him closely. 
He informed me that Pepa had been proclaimed 
Queen, and that you were safe. He also added that 
you would soon leave the valley.” 

“ And when did he tell you this precious story ?” 

“ About ten or twelve hours after we left Egypt.” 

“At that time,” said Challice, quietly, “ my life 
was in great danger. Pepa threatened me with death 
unless I told her where to find the tile inscribed 
with the name of the city.” 

“ But you refused, brother ?” 

“ I refused until she forced it from me by trickery. 
She disguised a woman as Mrs. Ingraham, and 
threatened to kill her unless I told her the secret. 
Hot knowing that Mrs. Ingraham had left Egypt, 
and thinking her life was in danger, I revealed- all to 
Pepa. How,” added Challice, bitterly, “she knows 
the name, and in another hour will be proclaimed 
Queen of the Cales.” 


236 


THE NAMELESS CITY 


‘‘Ah, the witch! I cannot blame you, brother. 
Who can think to escape the wiles of a woman! 
Aye ! aye ! now I see how falsely Zargo spoke.” 

“ You believed his story at the time 

“Could I do otherwise?” asked Goliath, in sur- 
prise ; “ it seemed fair enough. I did believe it, 
brother, and carried back the good news to our sister. 
She thereupon determined to leave Palma, and is 
now on her way to England.” 

“ Did she give you no message for me ?” 

“ None ! Save that she expected you to meet her 
in June. Then she would explain all.” 

“I shall be glad to learn all,” retorted Challice; 
“ however, I am glad she is safe, and as Pepa has 
given me my freedom I also will leave Egypt after 
the coronation.” 

“When does that take place?” 

“ The preparations are now being made,” rejoined 
Challice, as they descended the steps. “ Let us see 
the ceremony, Goliath, and then depart.” 

“ So Pepa is Queen after all !” 

“ At the cost of two deaths.” 

“Two!” repeated Goliath, in a startled tone. 
“ Jara, I knew, was slain by her, but what other 
victim has — ” 

“ Jativo,” said Challice, curtly. 

“ Jativo ! Is he dead ?” 

“Last night she thrust him into the chasm. At 


THE CORONATION 


237 


the present moment you can see his body lying 
there.” 

“Is this known 

“It is known that Jativo is dead, but Pepa says 
he fell in by accident. Should I tell the truth, she 
swears that I shall be blamed for the death. So, as 
I don’t want to die myself, I hold my tongue.” 

“ Ah ! what a clever w^oman is the Mother !” said 
Goliath, admiringly. 

Struck by the change in his tone, Challice looked 
inquiringly at him. It seemed as though Goliath 
were about to rank himself among the friends of 
Pepa. 

“ I^ay, brother,” said the gypsy, interpreting the 
look, “ think not that I love the witch, but who can 
withhold admiration ? She has overcome all difficul- 
ties, and now is .Queen.” 

“ She will make an excellent ruler,” observed 
Challice, dryly, “ if a remorseless nature be necessary 
for a sovereign.” 

As there was no chance of leaving Egypt at pres- 
ent, Challice retired to his cave. There he slum- 
bered, thoroughly worn out by the excitements 
through which he had passed. Goliath sought out 
Pepa, and evidently made his peace with her, for, now 
that she was Mother of the Cales, she did not with- 
hold pardon from her enemies. Having achieved 
her ambition, she could afford to be generous. 


238 


THE NAMELESS CITY 


And here it may be observed that Pepa fully de- 
served her hardly -won queenship. It is true that 
the realization had involved the sacrifice of life. 
Yet she hardly looked upon herself as a murderess. 
Nevertheless, a murderess she was, and should have 
been, and would have been, hanged in any civilized 
country. But in this nameless city, inhabited by a 
barbarous race, the crimes passed as (significant word) 
accidents. Pepa’s moral sense was blunted by up- 
bringing and surroundings, so that she felt no re- 
morse for having so promptly disposed of these liv- 
ing obstacles. A gay, daring creature, she was not 
wantonly cruel, and would have preferred a throne 
gained with less bloodshed ; but as such was a neces- 
sity, she bowed to the inevitable. Her great satisfac- 
tion was that she had done these deeds without being 
found out. That, in Pepa’s opinion, compensated 
for their deliberate wickedness. With such sophis- 
tries can the criminal quiet his conscience. 

Hereafter, when Queen, she proved an excellent 
and capable sovereign. The lawless Kommany 
needed a strong hand to control and guide them, and 
this they found in Pepa. Untroubled by remorse, 
sentimentality, or scruples, she subdued her nature 
to her office, and made all personal inclinations sub- 
servient to the well-being of the gypsy community. 
A born ruler, she had now found her fitted sphere, 
and the Hommany, as time went on, expressed them- 


THE COKONATION 


239 


selves more than satisfied with the successor of 
Jara. 

She never took to herself another rom. Whether 
it was that she truly loved Challice, or that she de- 
sired to be unhampered in administration by a hus- 
band, it is hard to say ; but single she remained, and 
contented herself with ambition in place of love. 
This was scarcely feminine, but Pepa had always 
proved herself superior to the weaknesses of her sex. 
Her body was that of a woman, her soul truly mascu- 
line, and the blame of such ill -assortment lay with 
Nature. 

As may be easily guessed, Challice was by no 
means sorry to leave that dreary valley. Many 
strange adventures he had met with during his 
travels, but this last experience, the oddest of all, 
satisfied his craving for romance. Henceforth he 
was content to settle in England and, if she consent- 
ed, to marry Mrs. Ingraham. The melancholy of the 
place was not without effect on his spirits, and in 
after-life he suffered at times from depression which 
he always set down to his terrible experience in that 
land of shadows. Neither he nor Mrs. Ingraham re- 
turned to Egypt. They had paid the visit obligatory 
on all the Kommany race, and cared not to repair 
thither for pleasure. Moreover, it was scarcely safe 
to do so while Pepa was Mother of the Gales. Her 
power was too great, her memory too excellent. 


240 


THE NAMELESS CITY 


Altogether they thought it the wiser plan to remain 
absent. 

From his sleep Challice was awakened by the roll- 
ing of drums and clashing of cymbals. The cere- 
monies of the coronation had commenced, and he 
hastened to see the installation of Pepa as Queen. 
At the entrance he was joined by Goliath. 

“ I have made peace with Pepa,” said this latter, 
“ and she bids me take you from Egypt when the 
torrent once more falls on yonder rocks.” 

“ The torrent !” 

“Aye, brother ! When The Appointed Three pro- 
claim her Mother, they will die painlessly, and be 
borne to yonder cavern. Then the torrent, restored 
to its old course, will once more veil the Sepulchre 
of Queens.” 

It was now near dawn, and the sky was rosy with 
the coming day. Wild and forbidding looked the 
hollow under those delicate hues, but Challice, ignor- 
ing such savagery, to which he was now accustomed, 
watched the crowd round the pyramid. The Kom- 
many wore their gayest robes, and on the dais were 
displayed the treasures of Egypt. The scene was 
similar to that of the funeral, but an air of jollity 
pervaded the assemblage, and there was much laugh- 
ter, and many jokes. As yet, Pepa had not appeared, 
but The Appointed Three, still veiled, sat in their old 
places. Instead of casting a chill over the proceed- 


THE CORONATION 


241 


ings, as would have been expected, the gypsies took no 
notice of them. Their presence was but the formal- 
ity of custom, as the mummy at Pharaohonic feasts. 

The ceremonies did not differ greatly from those 
of the previous night. There was the same dancing 
and singing, the same drinking and feasting. Chal- 
lice preferred to play the part of on-looker, but Go- 
liath mingled with his brethren and enjoyed himself 
thoroughly. As dawn brightened into day the 
merriment increased, and when the heavy yellow- 
ness of sunlight shot fan-like rays behind the peaks, 
the festival seemed in danger of degenerating into 
the unbridled license of a saturnalia. At this mo- 
ment Challice found Pepa by his side. 

“For the last time I have come,” she whispered, 
looking sadly at him — “ for the last time to ask your 
love.” 

“ I have told you a dozen times, I tell you again, 
it is useless.” 

“ Your rani has gone to England,” continued she, 
ignoring his refusal ; “ and by such desertion proves 
how little she cares for your love. Mount yon dais 
with me, and I shall present you to our brethren as 
Pharaoh.” 

“ I decline the honor.” 

“ Then you have determined to leave Egypt ?” 

“ I have determined to leave this city of fiends, 
to go to England, and to marry Mrs. Ingraham.” 

16 


242 


THE NAMELESS CITY 


She winced at the plainness of his speech. Every 
cold word cut like a knife, and she turned pale with 
emotion. It was hardly conceivable that this wan 
and haggard woman could be the sparkling, daring 
Pepa who had dared so greatly. Challice, moved 
by the reproach in her eyes, could have found it in 
his heart to pity her, but that he remembered her 
shameless criminality, and steeled himself against the 
weakness. 

“ Go !” he said, harshly, waving his hand towards 
the dais. “ The reward of your crimes awaits you.” 

“I might have guessed your answer from the 
cards,” she murmured ; “ marriage and love for you, 
widowhood and power for me. The strands of our 
lives were not interwoven by Fate. Yet we would 
have made a rare couple. Farewell, brother,” added 
she, catching his hand ; never shall I behold you 
more. Yet forget not Pepa, who rules in this bleak 
valley, and whose hate changed to love — to love which 
she gave up for ambition. Farewell ! farewell ! my 
brother.” 

Before he could stop her, she passionately kissed 
his hand, and moved through the crowd towards the 
dais. When next he beheld her, she, draped in a yel- 
low mantle, stood before The Appointed Three, high 
above the now silent throng. Yet there was no 
triumph in her face, but rather the worn look of one 
who had suffered. It was not remorse for her crimes, 


THE CORONATION 


243 


but the anguish engendered by unreturned love. 
Only another phase of her profound egotism. 

To the crowd she spoke eloquently in Rommany. 
Unversed in the tongue, Challice was unable to 
understand the speech, but guessed that the gist of 
it referred to Jara’s death, and her claim to be Queen. 
Several times she was interrupted by loud cries of 
delight, and the people seemed well content that she 
should rule over them. When she ended there was 
an interval of music and singing, after which the 
most interesting portion of the ceremony began. 

Turning towards those three figures sitting so 
silently under their enshrouding veils, Pepa whis- 
pered in the ear of each. One after the other they 
nodded, and arose from their chairs. Two led her 
forward, and the third and oldest addressed the 
crowd. The speech was also in Rom many, but Chal- 
lice afterwards learned that the speaker proclaimed 
Pepa, Mother of the Gales. ‘‘She had,” he said, 
“revealed to them the name of the city — the name 
on which depended the existence of this refuge, and 
with such knowledge was worthy to reign over the 
Gales.” The remaining two also vouched for the 
truth of this statement, and, their task being ended, 
the three returned to their seats. Challice turned 
away his head at the final scene of this ghastly mum- 
mery. It was too much for his nerves. 

Pepa received from the hands of Zargo a cup of 


244 


THE NAMELESS CITY 


wine, into which she squeezed the juice of herbs. 
With the fatal draught she moved slowly towards the 
dying trio, amid a profound silence. 

“I bring you release from sufferings,” she said, in 
a loud voice; “give me in exchange the crown of 
the Gales.” 

In answer to this request, the crown, a rude silver 
circlet, similar to that worn by Jara, was produced, 
and silently placed on her head. Thus acknowledged 
Mother of the Gales, she offered the cup to him who 
had crowned her. With trembling hands he drank 
the poison, and, giving back the cup, sank into his 
seat. The other two followed his example, and then 
Pepa, advancing to the front of the dais, turned the 
cup upside down to show that the wine had been 
taken. A shout arose hailing her as Queen. 

“ This is horrible,” said Ghallice to Goliath, who 
had lately rejoined him ; “ why should they kill 
these miserable men?” 

“They know the name of the city, brother, and 
must die. It is the law of Egypt.” 

“ Still, if they but kept them prisoners till — ” 

“You mistake, brother,” said Goliath, coldly, 
“these men do not wish to live. One is old and 
weary of life, two are dying of disease. They die 
without pain, for the poison is swift and subtle. 
Better is sleep than waking, brother, and better 
death than life.” 


THE COKONATION 


245 


“ You don’t seem to think so, Goliath.” 

“ I am strong and well, brother. It is a joy to live. 
But when I grow old and feeble, or should disease 
ruin my body, then would I welcome, as yonder three, 
the draught of Egypt.” 

“ Are they now dead ?” asked Challice, seeing how 
still were the veiled figures. 

“ Dead,” was the sombre response. 

The tragedy had no efEect on the assemblage. It 
seemed rather the signal for fresh merriment. Pepa 
sat before the three dead men, and absently watched 
the crowd moving restlessly round the dais. She 
had now gained that for which she had so long strug- 
gled. Yet the attainment seemed to give her but 
little pleasure. Displaying but scant interest in the 
revels, she glanced every now and then in the direc- 
tion of Challice. He resolutely kept his eyes turned 
away, only waiting for the conclusion of the cere- 
monies to depart. Dance succeeded to dance, song 
to song, and it seemed as though the gypsies were 
bent on revelling throughout the day. 

“Can we not go now, Goliath?” asked Challice, 
in a whisper. 

“Impossible ! The gates will not be opened until 
the three are placed in the cavern of the dead. See, 
the Mother is ordering it to be done.” 

Eaising her arms to command silence, Pepa spoke 
a few words in Eommany. Six men stepped on to 


246 


THE NAMELESS CITY 


the dais, and, to the, music of a solemn chant, bore 
away the bodies of the dead. One after the oth- 
er they were carried along the winding path and 
placed in the cave. After this entombment, a great 
number of gypsies disappeared into one of the 
caverns. 

“ Where are they going asked Challice. 

“To turn back the torrent,” answered Goliath. 
“ Now we can depart. But see, rye, the Mother de- 
sires to bid you farewell.” 

This was intimated by Zargo, who, much to the 
annoyance of Challice, led him through the crowd 
to the foot of the dais. Pepa rose to her feet as he 
appeared. She had bidden him farewell as a private 
individual, and now proceeded to do so as Mother of 
the Gales. Her mode of address, though authorized 
by custom, sounded strange, coming from so young 
and beautiful a woman. 

“ My son,” she said, in a clear, steady voice, “ you 
leave us now. The heart and home of our race you 
have seen, our ceremonies, our ancient customs. Go, 
then, and forget not that you are a gentle Kommany. 
Wherever you may wander the Gales will welcome 
you to heart and tent. Take also this jade eye, in 
memory of the Mother w^ho now bids you farewell. 
It brought you hither, it will take you away, and in 
all dangers protect you and yours. It is a true bahi. 
Farewell!” 


THE CORONATION 


247 


And all the gypsies crowded round him with 
friendly faces. 

‘‘Farewell! Farewell, brother!” they shouted. 
“ Brother, farewell !” 

Challice, casting a glance at Pepa, bowed, and 
walked down the street, followed by Goliath. On 
the platform, before the Cavern of Idols, he paused 
for a moment. There was the gaudily dressed 
throng, the black pyramid in the centre, and before 
it the figure of that evil woman whose blood-stained 
hands now” held the reins of power. As he looked, 
sullen thunder filled the air, and over the black rocks 
spouted the torrent. Masses of green water streaked 
with foam fell like a veil over the Sepulchre of 
Queens, and the steady roar once more resounded 
through the valley. Falling torrent, crowned fig- 
ure — those were his last glimpses of the nameless 
city. 


EPILOGUE 


On the second Sunday in June, Challice once more 
found himself in Hyde Park. Again it was the hour 
devoted to Church Parade, and fashionable London 
assembled under the leafy trees. Between the func- 
tion of this and that of last year there appeared to 
be absolutely no difference. Smartly -dressed peo- 
ple, smiling faces, gossip, and constant recognitions. 
But for the change in toilet and coiffure, Challice 
might well have been deceived into thinking that 
Time had remained stationary, and that his Bom- 
many adventures were but the result of vain imagi- 
nation. 

Yet, though unaltered to the casual eye, what 
changes had occurred in the lives of many during 
the past twelve months. Some were dead, others 
were married, this one had lost his money, that one 
her reputation. Fate had shaken the Kaleidoscope 
of Life, and, though the colors remained, the order 
was changed. Challice was well aware of all this, 
yet the outward sameness of everything provoked 
his irritation. 


EPILOGUE 


249 


“ Great Heavens !” he thought, as he leaned over 
the rail, “ who would think that a year had passed 
since I last beheld this scene, or that events sufficient 
to alter the course of my life had occurred during 
that period ? ■ Like Dante, I am the man who has 
been in hell, yet returns to find the world rolling on 
in the same old groove. Surely I have dreamed a 
dream, and Pepa, Jara, Jativo, that dreary valley, 
those awesome ceremonials are but shadows of the 
night.” 

He had been some time in England. Goliath ac- 
companied him as far as Palma, and from thence 
returned to Egypt, while Challice turned his face 
homeward. Gladly did he leave that melancholj^ 
neighborhood of barbarism and superstition. Estab- 
lished in his chambers, frequenting his old haunts, 
meeting friends and foes and idle acquaintances, he 
felt that civilization had its compensations. After 
so long a spell of cave life and primevalism, the lux- 
uries of London refreshed him greatly. So youthful 
were his feelings that it might have been his first 
season. With astonishing zest he plunged into a 
whirl of amusements that last year he had despised, 
and altogether became rejuvenated. After all, the 
true secret of enjoyment lies in contrast. 

Since leaving Egypt he had heard nothing of Mrs. 
Ingraham, and studiously abstained from making in- 
quiries about her. He knew that she would fulfil 


250 


THE NAMELESS CITY 


her promise, and meet him at the appointed time; so, 
now that it had come, he repaired nervously to the 
Park, anxious to have his doubts set at rest. Not- 
withstanding his scrutiny of the throng, he was una- 
ble to see her, and thinking she had not yet arrived, 
occupied his time in greeting old acquaintances. 
Among them was an old college friend, whom he 
had seen in the Caucasus Mountains. 

“Is this you, Challice?” said he, heartily shaking 
hands. “So you have arrived from foreign parts. 
I expected to see you when I returned from the 
Black Sea, and called at your chambers, but you were 
still absent. Where have you been hiding yourself 

“ I have been in Majorca.’’ 

“ Out-of-the-way hole, isn’t it ? and so dull. I was 
there a week and was bored to death. There are no 
adventures there.” 

Challice smiled to think how the speaker would 
stare if he told about Egypt. It would not be wise 
to speak of those adventures, however, so he held his 
peace. The next remark of his companion touched 
on the subject nearest to his heart. 

“ Have you seen Mrs. Ingraham since her return ?” 

“ No,” replied Challice, his heart beating violently. 
“ Is she here ?” 

“ Sitting round by the Achilles Statue, holding 
her usual court. She, also, has been travelling, and 
showed here three weeks ago. Wonderful woman. 


EPILOGUE 


251 


sir. Bj-the-waj, Challice,” added the speaker, ey- 
ing him significantly, “is it a fact the— eh — well, 
perhaps I shouldn’t — ” 

“ Shouldn’t what ?” 

“Shouldn’t congratulate you.” 

“I am afraid it is rather premature,” answered 
Challice, coldly. 

“Well, you might do worse,” said the other, with 
the good-will of an old friend. “ She is very beauti- 
ful, and has no end of money. Eh ! Oh, you are go- 
ing ! Good-bye for the present ! Come and lunch 
with me next week.” 

Leaving this rattle-pate, Challice took his way 
towards the Achilles Statue. Sure enough, he dis- 
covered Mrs. Ingraham here, seated in the centre 
of her friends. She looked pale, he thought, and 
greeted him a trifle coldly. 

“ How do you do, Mr. Challice ?” said she, hinting 
silence with her eyes ; “ and where have you been of 
late?” 

“Here, there, and everywhere,” he answered, 
lightly. “ I only arrived in town two weeks ago.” 

“And I, three,” said Mrs. Ingraham, mischiev- 
ously. “ What a strange thing it is that we did not 
meet one another abroad.” 

“ Yery strange, indeed.” 

All this for the benefit of the surrounding friends, 
who would have been horrified had they known the 


252 


THE NAMELESS CITY 


truth. These few words exchanged, Mrs. Ingraham 
turned her attention from Challice to another young 
man, and he waited patiently until such time as 
she should graciously bestow on him the light of her 
countenance. One by one the circle melted away, 
and then Mrs. Ingraham declared her intention of 
walking in the direction of the French Embassy. 

‘‘ And if you care to come also, Mr. Challice,” she 
said, carelessly, “ I shall be glad of your company.” 

Challice accepted the office of escort with avidity, 
and they took their way through the brilliant crowd. 
When comparatively alone, Mrs. Ingraham began to 
speak of Egypt without further preamble. 

“ I am so glad to see you again, Lancelot.” 

Yet you did not mind leaving me to my fate,” 
he answered, bitterly. 

“How unjust you are. I was the victim of cir- 
cumstances. You may be certain I should not have 
left Egypt had I not been assured of your safety by 
Zargo and Goliath.” 

“All’s well that ends well,” said he, philosophi- 
cally ; “ but I think that, after all that I have un- 
dergone, I deserve my reward.” 

“Well,” said she, mischievously, “and why did 
you not marry Pepa?” 

“Ah, there was lost the chance of a royal alliance! 
Up to the last moment she offered to make me 
Pharaoh ! But I refused because of you.’’ 


EPILOGUE 


253 


Aud you expect me to say ‘Yes V ” 

“ I hope so ! I think I have earned that an- 
swer.” 

Mrs. Ingraham was silent for a few moments, and 
walked on slowly. 

“You, no doubt, wonder why I did not accept 
your offer before.” 

“Well, yes,” hesitated Challice. “I do not know 
why you should have taken a whole year to answer 
so simple a question.” 

“ 'Not so simple to answer as you think,” she re- 
plied, “seeing it involves the loss of my fortune.” 

“ The loss of your fortune !” 

“Yes. As I told you, Mr. Ingraham advised me 
to marry again ; yet, when his will was read, I learned 
to my surprise that, if I did so, I was to go penniless 
to my second husband. Why he should play me 
such a trick I do not know.” 

“It is a pity,” said Challice, slowly; “but I really 
do not see that it matters much. I am quite wealthy 
enough for both.” 

“ I guessed that such would be your answer,” slie 
said, looking gratefully at him. “ Yet you can guess 
that I did not want to come to you penniless. 
Therefore I asked a year’s delay, and during that 
time have been doing all in my power to upset the 
will. With the exception of that week in Majorca, 
I have not been out of England. Yet all my work 


254 


THE NAMELESS CITY 


has been in vain. The will stands. In the event 
of my marriage the money goes to the next of kin ; 
and, if you elect to make me your wife, you marry 
a pauper.” 

“ I do so, willingly ! It is you whom I love, not 
your money.” 

‘‘In that case I will marry you whenever you 
choose.” 

“Let us be married before the end of the season,” 
said Challice. “ I have waited long enough for my 
happiness.” 

“ And Pepa ?” she hinted, smiling. 

“Ah! You were jealous of Pepa,” said he, with 
a laugh. “ Yet I assure you it was without cause. 
Pepa preferred ambition to love, and now that she 
is Queen of the Cales is quite content.” 

“You would not like to visit Egypt again?” 

“Would you?” he demanded, putting a counter 
question. 

“ No ! I don’t think it would be wise, with Pepa 
in power.” 

“ She would not harm me.” 

“ Would she not ?” said Mrs. Ingraham, sceptically. 
“I am afraid she would. Had not Goliath hurried 
me away to Palma, I should have been a dead wom- 
an long ago. Ah, Lancelot,” she added, meaningly, 
‘‘you say that you did not love Pepa; that I believe, 
for who could love so evil a person ; but she loved 


EPILOaUE 


255 


you, and would willingly have put me out of the way 
so as to have had you for her rom.” 

“ After all,” said Challice, pensively, “ I am sorry 
for Pepa ! Think of her shut up in that dreary val- 
ley forever.” 

“ It is her own choice, and she rules as Mother of 
the Gales.” 

“ Do you not regret the loss of the dignity ?” 

“No !” answered Mrs. Ingraham, decisively. “ I am 
content to be your wife ; Egypt would have driven 
me mad. Look at all this verdure, and think of that 
herbless, treeless solitude.” 

“I don’t envy Pepa, myself, save for one thing.” 

“ What is that ?” 

“ She knows the name of the city,” said Challice, 
laughing. “ There is something perversely tantaliz- 
ing about that. I should like to know that name.” 

“ Do you remember that eastern story ?” said Mrs. 
Ingraham — “ that story of the sage who underwent 
all difficulties to learn the secret of a certain shrine. 
When he tore aside the veil he found nothing but an 
empty room.” 

“ And the point of this parable ?” 

“ Simply this. I do not believe Egypt has a name. 
That, in reality, it is a nameless city. What Pepa 
whispered to The Appointed Three was, ‘ It has no 
name.’ ” 

“ That might be so, certainly,” assented Challice. 


256 


THE NAMELESS CITY 


That such should be the case would be quite in keep- 
ing with the absurdity of the whole idea. However, 
I am glad to have seen Egypt. It is a unique experi- 
ence.” 

“ And a very terrible one,” said Mrs. Ingraham. 
“ If I ever again receive the message of the jade eye, 
you may be sure I shall not obey it.” 

Challice produced the emblem from his pocket. 

‘‘Pepa gave it to me,” he explained, “as a talis- 
man of good-fortune.” 

They were standing on the bridge. Mrs. Ingra- 
ham took the jade eye and threw it into the water. 

“Let it lie,” she said, slipping her arm within his; 
“we want no fortune from Pepa. Together we 
can face what Fate has in store, without spells or 
magic.” 

“There,” said Challice, looking where the jade 
eye had sunk — “ there is the last of Egypt.” 


THE END 


WALTER BESANT’S WORKS. 


We give, without hesitation, the foremost place to Mr. Besant, whose 
work, always so admirable and spirited, acquires double importance from 
the enthusiasm with which it is inspired. — Blackwood's Magazine^ Edin- 
burgh. 

Mr. Besant wields the wand of a wizard, let him wave it in whatever 
direction he will. . . . The spell that dwells in this wand is formed by in- 
tense earnestness and vivid imagination. — Spectator^ London. 

There is a bluff, honest, hearty, and homely method about Mr. Besant’s 
stories which makes them acceptable, and because he is so easily under- 
stood is another reason why he is so particularly relished by the English 
public. — N. Y. Times. 


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$1 25 ; 8vo, Paper, 50 cents. 

ARMOREL OF LYONESSE. Il- 
lustrated. 12mo, Cloth, $1 25 ; 
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CHILDREN OF GIBEON. 12mo, 
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cents. 

DOROTHY FORSTER. 4to, Paper, 
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FIFTY YEARS AGO. Illustrated. 
8vo, Cloth, $2 50. 

FOR FAITH AND FREEDOM. Il- 
lustrated. 12mo, Cloth, $1 25 ; 
8vo, Paper, 60 cents. 

HERR PAULUS. 8vo, Paper, 35 
cents. 

KATHERINE REGINA. 4to, Pa- 
per, 16 cents. 

LIFE OF COLIGNY. 32mo, Cloth, 
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LONDON. Illustrated. 8vo, Cloth, 
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Gilt Top, $3 00. 

SELF OR BEARER. 4to, Paper, 
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ST. KATHARINE’S BY THE TOW- 
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THE BELL OF ST. PAUL’S. 8vo, 
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THE HOLY ROSE. 4to, Paper, 
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THE INNER HOUSE. 8vo, Paper, 
30 cents. 

THE IVORY GATE. 12rao, Cloth, 
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THE WORLD WENT VERY 
WELL THEN. Illustrated. 
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TO CALL HER MINE. Illustrated. 
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UNCLE JACK AND OTHER STO- 
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BY CONSTANCE F. WOOLSON, 


JUPITER LIGHTS. A Novel. 16mo, Cloth, $1 26. 
EAST ANGELS.. A Novel. 16mo, Cloth, $1 25. 
ANNE. A Novel. Illustrated. 1 6 mo, Cloth, 1 1 25. 
FOR THE MAJOR. A Novelette. 16mo, Cloth, $1 00 

CASTLE NOWHERE. Lake-Country Sketches. 16mo, 
Cloth, $1 00. 

RODMAN THE KEEPER. Southern Sketches. 16mo, 
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Delightful touches justify those who see many points of analogy 
between MissWoolson and George Eliot. — N. T. Times. 

For tenderness and purity of thought, for exquisitely delicate 
sketching of characters, Miss Woolson is unexcelled among writers 
of fictioiL — New Orleans Picayune. 

Characterization is Miss Woolson’s forte. Her men and women 
are not mere puppets, but original, breathing, and finely contrasted 
creations. — Chicago Tribune. 

Miss Woolson is one of the few novelists of the day who know 
how to make conversation, how to individualize the speakers, how 
to exclude rabid realism without falling into literary formality. — 
N. T. Ti'ibune. 

Constance Fenimore Woolson may easily become the novelist 
laureate, — Boston Globe. 

Miss Woolson has a graceful fancy, a ready wit, a polished style, 
and conspicuous dramatic power; while her skill in the develop- 
ment of a story is very remarkable. — London Life. 

Miss Woolson never once follows the beaten track of the orthodox 
novelist, but strikes a new and richly loaded vein which, so far, is 
all her own ; and thus we feel, on reading one of her works, a fresh 
sensation, and we put down the book with a sigh to think our pleas- 
ant task of reading it is finished. The author’s lines must have 
fallen to her in very pleasant places ; or she has, perhaps, within 
herself the wealth of womanly love and tenderness she pours so 
freely into all she writes. Such books as hers do much to elevate 
the moral tone of the day — a quality sadly wanting in novels of the 
time. — Whitehall E&ciew, London. 


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qf the above works will be sent by mail, postage prepaid, to any part of the 
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By MARY E. WILKINS. 


JANE FIELD. A Novel. Illustrated. 16mo, Cloth, Orna- 
mental, $1 25. 

YOUNG LUCRETIA, and Other Stories. Illustrated. Post 
8vo, Cloth, Ornamental, $1 25. 

GILES COREY, YEOMAN. A Play.* Illustrated. 32mo, 
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A NEW ENGLAND NUN, and Other Stories. 16mo, Cloth, 
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A HUMBLE ROMANCE, and Other Stories. • 16mo, Cloth, 
Ornamental, $1 25. • 

The pathos of New England life, its intensities of repressed feeling, its 
homely tragedies and its tender humor, have never been better told than 
by Mary E. Wilkins, and in her own field she stands to-day without a 
rival. — Boston Courier. 

It takes just such distinguished literary art as Mary E. Wilkins possesses 
to give an episode of New England its soul, pathos, and poetry. — N. Y. 
Times. 

The simplicity, purity, and quaintness of these stories set them apart in 
a niche of distinction where they have no rivals. — Literary World, Boston. 

The author has the unusual gift of writing a short story which is com- 
plete in itself, having a real begin7iing, a middle, and an end . — Observer, 

N. Y. 

A gallery of striking studies in the humblest quarters of American 
country life. No one has dealt with this kind of life better than Miss 
Wilkins. Nowhere are there to be found such faithful, delicately drawn, 
sympathetic, tenderly humorous pictures. — N. Y. Ti'ibune. 

The charm of Miss Wilkins’s stories is in her intimate acquaintance and 
comprehension of humble life, and the sw*eet human interest she feels and 
makes her readers partake of, in the simple, common, homely people she 
draws. — Springfield Republican. 

The author has given us studies from real life which must be the result 
of a lifetime of patient, sympathetic observation. . . . No one has done 
the same kind of work so lovingly and so w'ell. — Christian Register, 
Boston. 


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BEN-HUR: A TALE OF THE CHRIST 


By Lew Wallace. New Edition, pp. 552. 16mo, 

Cloth, $1 50. 

Anything so startling, new, and distinctive as the leading feature 
of this romance does not often appear in works of fiction. . . . Some 
of Mr. Wallace’s writing is remarkable for its pathetic eloquence. 
The scenes described in the New Testament are rewritten with the 
power and skill of an accomplished master of style. — W. Y. Times. 

Its real basis is a description of the life of the Jews and Romans 
at the beginning of the Christian era, and this is both forcible and 
brilliant. ... We are carried through a surprising variety of scenes; 
we witness a sea-fight, a chariot-race, the internal economy of a Ro- 
man galley, domestic interiors at Antioch, at Jerusalem, and among 
the tribes of the desert ; palaces, prisons, the haunts of dissipated 
Roman youth, the houses of pious families of Israel. ~ There is plenty 
of exciting incident ; everything is animated, vivid, and glowing. — 
iV. Y. IVibune. 

From the opening of the volume to the very close the reader’s 
interest will be kept at the highest pitch, and the novel will be pro- 
nounced by all one of the greatest novels of the day. — Boston Post. 

It is full of poetic beauty, as though born of an Eastern sage, and 
there is sufficient of Oriental customs, geography, nomenclature, etc., 
to greatly strengthen the semblance. — Boston Commonwealth. 

“Ben-Hur” is interesting, and its characterization is fine and 
strong. Meanwhile it evinces careful study of the period in which 
the scene is laid, and will help those who read it with reasonable 
attention to realize the nature and conditions of Hebrew life in Jeru- 
salem and Roman life at Antioch at the time of our Saviour’s ad- 
vent. — Examiner., N. Y. 

It is really Scripture history of Christ’s time clothed gracefully 
and delicately in the flowing and loose drapery of modern fiction. . . . 
Few late works of fiction excel it in genuine ability and interest. — 
W. Y. Graphic. 

One of the most remarkable and delightful books. It is as real 
and warm as life itself, and as attractive as the grandest and most 
heroic chapters of history. — Indianapolis Journal. 

The book is one of unquestionable power, and will be read with 
unwonted interest by many readers who are weary of the conven- 
tional nove^ and romance. — Boston Journal. 


Published by HARPER & BROTHERS, New York. 

The above work sent bp mail, postage prepaid, to any part of the United 
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STANDARD NOVELS IN PAPER COVERS. 


CHARLES DICKENS, prick 


Oliver Twist (illustrated) 8vo,$0 50 

Martin Chuzzlewit (ill’d) 8vo 1 00 

Old Curiosity Shop (ill’d) 8vo 75 

David Copperfleld (ill’d) 8vo 1 00 

Dorabey and Son (ill’d) 8vo 1 00 

Nicholas Nickleby (ill’d) 8vo 1 00 

Bleak House (illustrated) 8vo 1 00 

Pickwick Papers (illustrated). .8vo 1 00 

X. , ^ 4to 20 

Little Dorrit (illustrated) 8vo 1 00 

Barnaby Budge (illustrated). . .8vo 1 00 

A Tale of Two Cities (ill’d) 8vo 1 00 

Our Mutual Friend (ill’d) 8vo 1 00 

Christmas Stories (ill’d) 8vo 1 00 

Great Expectations (ill’d) 8vo 1 00 

The Uncommercial Traveller, Hard 
Times, and Edwin Drood (il- 
lustrated) 8vo 1 00 

Pictures from Italy, Sketches by 
Boz, and American Notes (il- 
lustrated) 8vo 1 00 

The Mudfog Papers 4to 10 

Hard Times 8vo 25 

Mrs. Lirriper’s Legacy .8vo 10 

EDWARD BULWER. 

A Strange Story (illustrated). .8vo 60 

Devereux 8vo 40 

Godolphin 8vo 35 

Kenelm Chillingly 8vo 50 

Leila 8vo 25 

Night and Morning .8vo 60 

Pausanias the Spartan 8vo 25 

The Coming Race 12mo 50 

The Last Days of Pompeii 8vo 25 

The Parisians (illustrated) 8vo 60 

The Pilgrims of the Rhine 8vo 20 

Zanoni 8vo 35 

WILKIE COLLINS. 

Armadale (illustrated) 8vo 60 

Antonina 8vo 40 

“I Say No” 16mo 35 

4to 20 

My Lady’s Money 32mo 25 

No Name (ilPd by M'Lenan). . .8vo 60 

Percy and the Prophet 32mo 20 

Poor Miss Finch (illustrated). .8vo 60 

The Evil Genius 12mo 25 

The Ghost’s Touch 12rao 25 

The Guilty River 12mo 25 

The Law and the Lady (ill’d) , .8vo 60 

The Two Destinies (ill’d) 8vo 35 

R. D. BLACKMORE. 

Christowell 4to 20 

Cradock Nowell 8vo 60 

Ererna 8vo 50 

Kit and Kitty 8vo 35 

Lorna Doone (illustrated) 8vo 40 

Mary Anerley. 4to 15 

Springhaven (illustrated) 4to 25 

Tommy Upmoro lOmo 35 

4to 20 

VICTOR HUGO. 

Ninety-Three 8vo ‘25 

Toilers of the Sea. 8vo 50 


CHARLES READE. price 

A Perilous Secret 12mo $0 40 

Singleheart and Doubleface, &c. 

(illustrated) 4to 15 

A Hero and a Martyr ....8vo 15 

A Simpleton 8vo 35 

A Woman-Hater (illustrated). .8vo 30 

12mo 25 

Good Stories (illustrated) 12mo 50 


“ 4to 20 

Foul Play 8vo 30 

White Lies 8vo 30 

Peg WolHngton, and Other Tales 

8vo 35 

The Jilt (illustrated) 32mo 20 

The Coming Man 32mo 20 

The Picture 16mo 15 

Jack of All Trades lOmo 15 

GEORGE ELIOT. 

Felix Holt 8vo 50 

Middlemarch 8vo 75 

Daniel Deronda 8vo 50 

Romola (illustrated) 8vo 60 

Scenes of Clerical Life 8vo 50 

Silas Marner 12mo 25 

Adam Bede 4to 25 

Amos Barton 32mo 20 

Mr. GilliPs Love Story 32mo 20 

Janet’s Repentance 32mo 20 

Brother Jacob — The Lifted Veil 

32mo 20 

WILLIAM BLACK. 

A Daughter of Heth 8vo 35 

An Adventur.3 in Thule 4to 10 

Donald Ross cf Heimra 8vo 50 

Green Pastures and Piccadilly. 8vo 50 

In Far Lochaber 8vo 40 

In Silk Attire 8vo 35 

Judith Shakespeare 4to 20 

Kilmeny 8Vo 35 

Macleod of Dare (ilPd) .4to, 15 ; 8vo 60 

Madcap Violet 8vo 50 

Monarch of Mincing Lane (illus- 
trated) 8vo 50 

Prince Fortunatus (illustrated) 8vo 60 

Sabina Zembra 4to 20 

Stand Fast, Craig-Royston (illus- 
trated) 8vo 60 

Strange Adv’s of a Phaeton. . . . 8vo 60 
Strange Adventures of a Honse- 

Boat (illustrated) 8vo 50 

Sunrise 4to 20 

The Maid of Killeena, &c 8vo 40 

Three Feathers (illustrated). .8vo 50 
White Wings. 4to 20 

H. RIDER HAGGARD. 

She (illustrated) IGmo 25 

King Solomon’s Mines 4to 20 

Jess 4to 15 

Allan Quatermain (ill’d) 16mo 25 

Mr. Meeson’s Will 16mo 25 

Maiwa’s Revenge (ill’d) 16mo 25 

Col. Quaritch,V.C. (ill’d) 16mo 25 

Cleopatra (illustrated) 16mo 25 

Beatrice (illustrated) 16mo 30 

The World’s Desire 16mo bo 

Eric Brighteyes 16mo 25 


WILLIAM M. THACKERAY. 

PBICS 

Henry Esmond 


Denis Duval (illustrated) 


25 

Great Hoggarty Diamond. . . . 


20 

Vanity Fair (illustrated) 


80 

Pendennis (illustrated) 


75 

The Virginians (illustrated). . 

. .8 VO 

90 

The Newcomes (illustrated). . 

..8vo 

90 

WALTER BESANT. 


Uncle Jack and Other Stories. 12mo 

25 

All in a Garden Fair 


20 

Self or Bearer 


15 

For Faith and Freedom 


50 

The Bell of St. Paul’s 


35 

The Inner House 


30 

The World Went Very Well Then 


(illustrated) 


26 

The Children of Gibeon 


50 

The Holy Rose 


20 

Katherine Regina 


15 

Dorothy Forster 


20 

To Call Her Mine (illustrated). ,4to 

20 

Herr Paulus 


35 

Armorel of Lyonesse (ilPd). . 

.. 8vo 

60 

All Sorts and Conditions of Men 


(illustrated) 


60 

St. Katherine’s by the Tower (illus- 


trated)..., 


60 

BESANT & RICE 

1. 


Golden Butterfly 


40 

When the Ship Comes Home.32mo 

26 

’Twas in Trafalgar's Bay 

32mo 

20 

Sweet Nelly 


10 

Shepherds All and Alaidens Fair. 



32 mo 

25 

The Chaplain of the Fleet . . . 

. .4to 

20 

By Celia s Arbor (illustrated) 

. .8vo 

60 

The Captain’s Room 


10 

W. CLARK RUSSELL. 


Auld Lang Syne 


10 

A Sailor’s Sweetheart 


15 

A Sea Queen 


20 

A Strange Voyage 


20 

A Book for the Hammock. . . 


20 

Wreck of the “ Grosvenor ” . 

. .4to 

15 

An Ocean Tragedv 


60 

The “ Lady Maud ’ ’ (illustrated) . 4to 

20 

Marooned 


25 

My Danish Sweetheart (ilPd) 

..8vo 

60 

My Shipmate Louise 


50 

In the Middle Watch 

12mo 

25 

Little Loo 


20 

On the Fo’k’sle Head 


15 

Voyage to the Cape 

12mo 

25 

Round the Galley Fire 


15 

The Golden Hope 


20 

The Frozen Pirate (illustrated) .4to 

25 

Mrs. Dines’s Jewols(illustrated).8vo 

50 


THOMAS HARDY. 

A Group of Noble Dames (illus- 


trated) 8vo 75 

The Woodlaiiders ...,4to 20 

Fellow-Townsmen 32mo 20 

A Laodicean (illustrated) 4to 20 

W essex Tales 8 vo 30 


. Published by HARPER & BROTHERS, New York. 

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on receipt of the price. 


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